Adventures in Turtle Sitting
by Flynne
Summary: In which April O'Neil goes looking for a lost cat and finds something unexpected. Inspired by the question: What if Splinter had met April the same night he and the boys mutated?
1. Help Wanted

_This little story was inspired by a little "what if?" and some incredibly adorable fanart by Brushbell on tumblr: What if Splinter had met April the same night he and the boys mutated? (This doesn't take place on the __**exact**__ same night, but it's close enough.) _:)_ I don't usually write AU, but the artwork was so adorable that it stuck with me...and then this happened. _:D_ The story is labeled as complete right now...I don't have anything definite planned out, but there is a slight possibility more chapters could be added later._

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Adventures in Turtle Sitting: Help Wanted

April lifted her head from where it rested on her folded arms, blinking in the bright light of the kitchen. She let out a little moan and rubbed her face, glancing at the microwave clock with bleary eyes. 12:07 AM. She'd fallen asleep studying. Again.

She pushed her chair back from the kitchen table and glared drowsily at the textbook she'd been sleeping on. She should have listened to her academic adviser and waited until her senior year to take advanced calculus instead of taking it at the same time she was enrolled in physics II, but she'd insisted on taking them together so she'd be eligible for the advanced placement classes next year. Nothing like earning a little college credit ahead of time.

But now, looking down at the unintelligible jumble of letters and numbers on the page, April was beginning to wonder if it was worth it. It wasn't that she couldn't understand the material...but it was so much _work_.

The small sound shouldn't have even registered on her hearing, but the faint, plaintive mewling from outside caught her attention. Her elderly neighbor's cat had gone missing just yesterday, and April had promised Mrs. Carter that she'd keep an eye out for her. She rose and stretched, then stepped over to the open window. She lifted the screen with a rattle and poked her head out, peering down into the alley below.

"Kitty, kitty, kitty!" she called softly. "Heloise? Are you down there?" She didn't hear an answering meow but thought she saw a slight flutter of movement. April sighed. Well, at least she was still dressed. She hurriedly slipped on her shoes and descended the stairs to the ground floor, pushing open the heavy fire door to step into the alley. She flipped on the light over the door. The ancient bulb provided a watery yellow glow that did little to illuminate the narrow, dead-ended alley. "Kitty? Heloise?" she called again, walking farther back. She dragged her feet a little to keep from tripping over the garbage that had spilled from the dumpster. "Man, I should have brought a flashlight," she muttered. She was about to pass the end of the dumpster when she heard another sound – and it wasn't a cat.

"Stop. Do not come any closer."

The voice was barely audible, but it was deep and menacing, almost a growl. April instantly froze, heartbeat double-timing as she stared wide-eyed into the shadows. Her mouth went dry, but she managed to force the words out. "Who's there?"

There was a brief pause before the disembodied voice came again. "No one of consequence. Leave. Now."

The implied threat of "or else" in the words caused her to retreat a step or two, but then she heard it. It was the barest ghost of a sound, but it was unmistakable: the soft whimper of a very young child, and she realized that this was the noise she had heard through her open window. April was suddenly deathly afraid, but a surge of protective anger gave her courage. She moved forward a half step, clenching her fists, glaring in the direction of the unseen speaker.

"I know there's a kid with you," she said, "and if you don't tell me what's going on _right now_ I'm going to scream, and everyone in this building is going to wake up and then you can tell your story to the police."

"No! Wait. Please. Let me explain."

The instantaneous aversion to the police should have been a red flag. Scratch that – it should have been a huge flashing strobe light with a klaxon blaring – but something in the man's voice told April she should wait. Despite the overt hostility in his tone, she could hear an undercurrent of pain and fear. And she found herself wondering if he needed to be helped instead of arrested.

"Okay," she said cautiously, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "You've got one chance to convince me."

There was a long silence before the stranger spoke again. "I do have a child with me," he said slowly. "He is my son."

It was an easy enough lie to tell, but despite the bizarre circumstances and the fact that April couldn't see the speaker, his voice still rang sincere. Still, she couldn't just let this go. "Is he all right?"

"He has a minor injury," came the reply.

A worried frown touched her mouth. "Listen, if he's hurt, he needs to see a doctor. Why are you hiding in an alley?" A sudden thought struck her and she asked more hesitantly, "Do you...do you need me to find directions to a Salvation Army shelter or something?"

There was another silence that caused a cold shiver to run down April's back. Even though the stranger said nothing, she felt an almost palpable wave of distress emanating from his shadowy corner. "I...cannot," he forced out.

"I can't accept that," she replied, lifting her chin stubbornly. "I won't just go back inside knowing there's a hurt kid out here. You need to tell me what's going on so I can help you."

"If you promise me that you will remain silent, I will come into the light," the stranger said reluctantly. "You will understand."

"Okay," April said, bracing herself. There was a soft shuffle of movement. The child whimpered again, but April could hear the stranger whispering quietly and the boy quickly fell silent. The first thing she saw was the fitful glow from the porch light reflected in a pair of eyes. Her stomach twisted – there was something wrong, something _other_ about those eyes – and with a swift, graceful movement, he stepped into the puddle of yellow light.

Despite her promise to be quiet, April's breath caught and she could feel a scream pressing against the back of her throat.

"Do not cry out," he said again.

She pressed her lips together tightly and swallowed hard, scanning the creature before her from head to foot. He was well over six feet tall, with thick, mahogany-colored fur covering a sleek, powerfully-muscled body. Movement near the ground caught her eye, and she looked down to see a hairless, sinuous tail curling around his clawed feet.

"You're a – "

"Do you understand now why I must remain hidden?" he asked, voice hard.

"I..." She tore her eyes away from his tail and forced herself to look into his face. The first things her eyes took in were the wide ears, long face, and mobile whiskers of a rat...but she took a deep breath and looked again. And she made herself look past the face of the animal and into his eyes. Eyes that were intelligent, defiant, and full of deep pain.

And just like that, her reservations were gone. This was a creature unlike any she had ever seen before, but even though he wasn't human, he was a _person_. And he was hurting.

She took a deep breath and looked bravely up at him. "How can I help you?" she asked.

He stiffened. "What?"

"You're right. You need to stay hidden. But I've already seen you. So...tell me how I can help."

"You are not afraid of me?"

She tilted her head. "Should I be?"

He looked at her for a long moment. "Will you believe me if I say 'no'?"

April answered without hesitation. "Yes." She knew that most people would think she was making a dangerous decision, but she had always had an innate ability to sense when someone was being deceitful. And despite the fact that she was looking at a giant rat, she wasn't afraid of him. She knew that he was telling the truth. "Listen, my dad is at a conference out of town. It's just me at home right now. Let me help you and your son." When she saw him hesitate, she did her best to give him a reassuring smile. "I promise, I won't tell anyone I've seen you."

He just stared at her. "I am a stranger," he said in a low voice. "I could be dangerous. And you are alone."

"I know," she answered, heart giving an uneasy little skip. "But I'm usually pretty good at knowing when people are telling the truth. My dad calls it a sixth sense. And even though you're not exactly a person, I don't think you're lying and I don't think you'll hurt me. If you decide that you'll trust me, I will trust you."

He paused a moment longer before his shoulders slumped in a combination of resignation and relief. "Very well." He stepped back into the darkness but re-emerged a moment later, holding a small figure close against his chest.

April's eyes widened in surprise. She had expected to see a little rat, but the creature in her new acquaintance's arms was... "Is he...a turtle?"

The rat nodded. "It is a long story."

The little turtle had lifted his head at the sound of her voice, and April found herself staring into a pair of bright green eyes. The turtle looked her over warily, pressing close against his father's broad, furry chest.

"Oh..." April breathed. She took a tentative step forward and carefully extended her hand. The little turtle watched her movements...then very slowly reached out and wrapped his three smooth, surprisingly warm fingers around her thumb. A breathless little laugh escaped April's chest, and she looked up into the rat's face with an awed smile. "What's his name?"

The rat looked thoughtfully down into the little turtle's face. "He does not have one yet."

April looked back down at the turtle, but her face creased in a worried frown as she saw the rust-colored stain dried in the creases of his shell. Looking closer, she could see a jagged crack in the top of the shell on the left side of his chest. "What happened?"

"That is also a long story," the rat said. "And I will tell you if you wish to hear it. But since you have offered, I would be glad of your help. He was cut by a piece of glass. I removed most of it, but I believe that a shard may still be embedded in the wound. I have not been able to remove it."

"Oh, the poor thing! Yes, please, come inside," April said, beckoning him towards the door. She peered up the stairway, making sure it was deserted, then waved him inside. Despite his size, his footsteps were completely silent as he followed her upstairs. She kept darting little glances behind her as they climbed. After the initial shock of meeting him had faded, she had noticed that his deep, rich voice was touched with an accent that sounded Asian in origin, but she worried it might be rude to ask. So she put the lid on her not inconsiderable curiosity and simply hoped she'd be given the chance to ask him later.

She shut the apartment door behind them, trying not to stare at the bizarre sight of a six-foot rodent standing her living room. "My name is April," she told him, then ventured the one question she decided it would be polite to ask. "What's your name?"

His breath caught in his throat, and April's heart ached to see the sudden wave of sorrow in the expressive brown eyes. "To tell the truth, my dear," he said quietly, "I do not know if I have a name anymore."

April wasn't sure how to answer that. She wet her lips and did her best to give him a sympathetic look, then beckoned. "Come on. Let's take a look at the little guy."

The rat followed her into the brightly lit bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, settling the little turtle in his lap. April sat next to him, deliberately ignoring the strangeness of being so close to a giant talking animal, and carefully reached out toward the turtle.

"It's okay, little dude, I'm just going to check you out," she said soothingly. The turtle fisted one hand in the fur on the rat's chest and his green eyes watched her every move with hawk-like intensity, but he didn't back away. She just petted the shell on his chest for a minute or two to get him used to her, then cautiously touched the cracked area and very gently pulled the edge of the shell back.

The turtle whined and tried to pull away, but the rat wrapped his arm more securely around his shoulders and held him still while April dabbed at the slow trickle of blood that her examination had caused. Sure enough, the rat had been right – she could see the sharp gleam of glass trapped beneath the dark yellow shell.

"Okay, there _is_ glass in there," she said, looking up at the rat, "but I think I can get it."

The rat gently restrained his son while April got a pair of tweezers, carefully eased the thin shard free, and rinsed the wound. When the rat relaxed his hold, the turtle immediately turned away from April, whimpering as he hid his tear-filled eyes against his father's chest.

"Oh, sweetie, I wasn't trying to hurt you," April said softly. She tried to give his arm a reassuring pat, but he flinched away from her.

"He does not understand," the rat told her. "But please accept my gratitude. I would not have been able to help him on my own."

"It's okay," April answered, tamping down her disappointment. Although his reaction wasn't surprising, the little turtle was absolutely adorable and since the moment she first laid eyes on him, all she'd wanted to do was snatch him up and cuddle him. But apparently that wasn't going to happen.

She turned her attention back to the rat. "Listen, let me get you something to eat. And then...maybe you can tell me that long story you mentioned earlier?"

He thought briefly, then nodded his assent.

While April reheated leftovers, the rat talked. He told her how he had been human just forty-eight hours ago. How he had taken a shortcut home through a rat-infested alley and stumbled upon a meeting between strange, otherworldly-looking men. He told her they had attacked him and he had fought them off, but he had not escaped unscathed – a broken canister, a bizarre, glowing ooze that burned like cold fire, and then an overwhelming sense of fear and pain as his body was altered beyond all recognition. And then he was alone. Alone, except for four little turtles covered in ooze, huddled together in a pile of shattered glass, the remains of the bowl that had housed them.

"The bowl was broken in the fight. That is how this one was injured," he finished in a low voice, looking down at the little creature in his lap. "They were not afraid of me, and I knew I could not leave them. Not when they reached out to me for help. Not when they looked at me like..." But his teeth clamped shut on his words and he closed his eyes, and he would not say any more.

"There are four of them?" April asked in amazement. She looked down at the little turtle again. He had eaten the vegetables and rice at once, but after giving the chicken a dubious sniff, he pushed it away. "Where are the others?"

"They were asleep when I left, but I did not like to leave this one behind."

He had sidestepped the real question she had asked, but she wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily. "I meant: where did you leave them?"

"I have found a place to stay," he answered evasively.

April's eyes narrowed. Now that she had heard his story, she wasn't about to just let him fend for himself. "Okay," she said briskly, "well then, let me wrap up some food and grab a couple blankets and we can go."

He blinked at her in surprise. "Go?"

"To see the others," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "They've already been left on their own for a while now, and I'm sure they're hungry, too."

He gave her a sharp look. "And why do you think you are coming with me?"

"You'll need help carrying everything," she answered breezily, spooning the rest of the leftovers into a couple Tupperware containers. She made sure to keep the meat separate in case the other turtles wouldn't like it either. She opened the refrigerator and started gathering a few apples and a half-empty bag of baby carrots, packing all the food into one of the reusable grocery bags her dad had purchased. Leaving the food on the counter, she hurried to the hall closet and stuffed a few blankets into a second bag.

The rat stared at her when she came back into the kitchen, whiskers bristling uncertainly. The little turtle noticed his father's unease and nestled closer against the furred chest, glaring distrustfully at the red-headed girl.

April gave an exasperated little sigh and rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You don't really think I'm going to just turn you out on your own, do you?"

"I do not need help," he said stonily.

"You did tonight."

The rat's eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained silent.

April sighed again, but her voice gentled and she spoke carefully, not wanting to come across as patronizing. "Listen. I'm sure you _can_ handle things on your own. But...do you really want to? I don't want to force myself where I'm not wanted, but I'm willing to help you. Or maybe there's someone else you can contact? Family or friends who would understand what happened to you?"

The rat was silent for a long moment. "No," he said quietly, voice heavy with defeat. "There is no one."

That was probably part of the long story he _hadn't _told her, but she knew it wasn't her place to press him. "Then may I help you?" she asked again.

His expression did not change, but the severe edge faded from his eyes. "You may," he said at last.

April carried the bag of food while the rat took the bag with the blankets in one hand and carried his son with the other. He turned off the light in the alley and carefully stepped out, scanning the empty street for any sign of movement. April wondered how he'd managed to get into the alley without being seen – but then she heard the metallic rumble of a manhole cover being moved.

"You live in the sewer?" she kept her voice to a whisper, but an incredulous squeak still escaped.

"I do now," he answered shortly. He lowered the bag of food as far as it would go, then let it drop before climbing down after it. The manhole was a tight fit for him, but he made it.

April stared at the black hole in the greasy concrete and swallowed hard. Taking her courage in both hands, she slung the bag's strap over her shoulder, sat on the ground, and slipped through the manhole, hands gripping the rust-coated ladder rungs as she descended into darkness. When she reached the bottom, the rat climbed up partway to pull the manhole cover back in place. The turtle stood anxiously at the foot of the ladder, one eye on his father and the other on April as the sewer tunnel was plunged into complete darkness. April didn't hear the rat come back down, so when she felt the touch of a warm, long-fingered hand on her arm she couldn't suppress a startled yelp. The echoes of her voice bounced off the concrete tunnel.

"Stay close to me," the rat said. His hand slid down her arm until his fingers wrapped around hers. April had just enough time to think how human and how alien his paw-hand felt before he gave her arm a little tug and led her away.

Nobody spoke during their journey. Even the little turtle remained utterly silent. April held the rat's hand tightly. Occasional bits of light filtered in through the holes in the manhole covers, but much of their trip was in darkness. She could hear the steady sound of running water – sometimes distant, sometimes very close – and at one point she felt something dripping onto her hair that she fervently hoped was condensation from the pipes overhead.

The rat led her to a boarded-up tunnel that was dimly illuminated by a street light shining down through a sewer grate. He let go of her hand and took hold of the large sheet of plywood in the center to push it aside with a shivery scraping sound. April's eyes widened when she saw a faint white light shining in the alcove beyond. Still holding the little turtle in his arms, the rat slipped through the narrow opening. Heart thumping with nervous excitement, April followed.

The first thing her eyes were drawn to was a little battery-powered camping lantern in the center of the small chamber. The light it emitted was dim, but to her dark-adjusted eyes, it seemed bright. The rat's fur glimmered in the soft light as he knelt down and gently nudged the sleeping turtles huddled together on a pile of newspaper. April sat cross-legged near the edge of the alcove and watched in quiet wonder as the little turtle's three siblings awoke and stretched before snuggling against the rat's sides. One of them moved close to the little one with the damaged shell and gently patted the cracked area, peering at the remnants of blood with curious concern in his serious blue eyes.

The rat's arms were full, holding the other two turtles, but he smiled kindly down at the worried youngster. "He will be all right," he said reassuringly. The second turtle wrapped his arms around his injured brother in a gentle hug.

The turtle cradled in the rat's right arm had noticed her. Wide blue eyes in a freckled face stared at her in astonishment. April gave him a little smile and waved, feeling a surge of delight as the little turtle laughed and waved enthusiastically back at her. He reached up a stubby hand and gave his father's fur a tug, kicking his feet until he was set down. He paused a moment, balancing, then toddled over to her, hands outstretched.

April couldn't help giggling as the little turtle let himself fall against her, clinging to her neck in a tight, enthusiastic hug. "Oh my _gosh, _he's strong!" she exclaimed, hugging the hard-shelled little body tightly.

The other three turtles were watching eagerly as the rat unpacked the food that April had brought, and all too soon the little turtle in her arms decided to go join them. But after he had eaten (the one with the cracked shell had no qualms about devouring a second helping), he came right back to her and climbed into her lap, snuggling close to rest his head against her shoulder.

"What do you have there?" April opened her hand as he held out his closed fist. He dropped a small, smooth pebble into her palm, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. April hugged him tight and kissed him on the nose. "Thank you! It's beautiful."

"He seems to have accepted you," the rat observed, watching as a second turtle approach.

April extended her hand to the newcomer. He carefully reached out to take her hand in both of his, studying it with wide brown eyes. April grinned again as he slowly folded and extended each finger one at a time before turning her hand over to first study the back of her hand, then her palm. He laid his smooth-skinned green hand against hers, gazing curiously down at the contrasting sizes and differing number of fingers.

"They seem so intelligent," April observed. "Do you think they'll be able to talk?"

"I do not know, but I believe that they will. You have heard them laughing and making sounds. And since I have retained my reason and ability to talk, I can only assume that they have been given the ability to think and speak."

The little brown-eyed turtle had gotten bored with her hand and started pushing at the turtle in April's lap. The freckled turtle willingly made room for his brother and April wrapped her arm around the second turtle as he nestled against her. When he tilted his head back and gave her a gap-toothed grin, her heart melted, and she leaned down to drop a kiss on his forehead.

"Well, that's two out of four," she said, hugging them close as she smiled at the rat. To her surprise, he smiled back, the expression bending the distinguished-looking white streaks on his muzzle into friendly curves.

The turtle with the cracked shell was still staying close to his father, but the expression in the bright green eyes had thawed a little as he watched April interacting with his brothers. April smiled encouragingly and beckoned to the turtle she hadn't met yet. He was watching her with solemn blue eyes, still leaning against his brother, but when he saw her waving at him he smiled a little, lifted his head and looked up inquiringly at his father.

"It is all right," the rat told him. "You may go to her."

He stood up and tugged on his brother's hand, but the little one refused to budge. After a brief moment of indecision, the blue-eyed turtle left him and walked over to stand in front of April.

"It's okay," she said, smiling, "There's plenty of room." The freckled turtle gave an indignant squeak as she shifted him over again to make space, but when his brother climbed into the middle, he laughed and nuzzled his snout against the newcomer's cheek.

April and the rat didn't speak for a while, but the silence was comfortable rather than awkward. The turtle with the cracked shell began to yawn and nod off against his father's chest, and the three in April's lap soon grew drowsy as well. Before long, April was effectively pinned in place by three sleep-heavy turtles. She began to lose feeling in her legs, but she didn't care. She had completely fallen in love with these unique little creatures.

"It is getting late," the rat whispered at last. "I should return you to your home."

"I don't want to wake them," April answered in the same tone.

He smiled again. "I will move them." He stood, still cradling his sleeping son in one arm, and shook out the blankets April had given them. He deposited his son in the nest he'd created, then lifted the three sleepers from April's lap one at a time with a featherlight touch. He took the little freckled turtle last. As he set him down beside his brothers, the bright blue eyes opened just a bit, but the turtle didn't make any protest. He just murmured sleepily and curled against the one with the cracked shell – close enough to snuggle, but gently enough not to cause pain. The rat lifted a fold of the blanket and tucked them in.

"There," he said softly. "I believe they will stay asleep long enough for me to take you home."

April looked fondly down at the little turtle who had stubbornly avoided her. "I'll win you over yet," she promised in a whisper. She was glad for the rat's offer to help her up. Her legs tingled with pins and needles and she stumbled a little until feeling returned to her feet. They made the return journey in silence. This time, the hand holding hers did not feel strange at all. Though the initial trip through the sewers had seemed to take a long time, before April knew it she was following the rat up the ladder, climbing up into the alley beside her apartment building.

"April..." The rat sighed. "I cannot thank you enough for your kindness and compassion tonight. I will not forget it."

"You don't need to," April blurted out. "What I mean is...I want to still help you when I can. I love those babies."

His eyes softened. "I would like that," he said quietly. "I know that you must still be in school, but will you be able to come again on Saturday?"

She grinned, full of excitement and relief that he had given up trying to push her away. "Absolutely!"

"Very well. I will meet you here Saturday after dark."

She nodded enthusiastically. "I'll be here." She turned to go back inside, but paused on the stoop to look back. Her eyes widened. She hadn't heard a sound, but the rat had disappeared as if he had never been there and the manhole cover was in its proper place, looking completely undisturbed.

By the time she undressed and fell into bed, the hour was creeping past 3:30 AM. She didn't know how on earth she would manage to sleep after the excitement of that night, but her exhaustion won out and she soon dropped off.

The next morning, after slapping her blaring alarm clock into silence, she sat up in bed and rubbed her bleary eyes, trying to sort out whether or not the events of the night before had been a dream. It had felt so real...but no, it had to have been a dream. There was no way it had actually happened.

But then she saw the little pebble on her nightstand. Her heart gave a great joyful leap, and she started to laugh. She still had a lot of unanswered questions and she didn't know how to explain what had happened the night before, but she knew without a doubt that her life had just changed for good.


	2. Baby Steps

_Thank you so much to everyone who has read and shown interest in this little story! It's been a lot of fun to write, and I appreciate the encouragement. _:)

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Adventures in Turtlesitting: Baby Steps

April huddled beneath her umbrella behind the dumpster, trying to keep the laden backpack on her shoulders out of the rain. She couldn't help wrinkling her nose at the smell while she stared expectantly at the manhole cover in the center of the alley. The steadily falling raindrops pinged off the heavy cast iron disk and splashed in the growing puddles in the cracked concrete. She glanced at her watch and sighed a little. The storm clouds that had been brooding over the city all day had hurried nightfall along and she'd been waiting quite a while. Maybe she'd come out a little early, but the rat had told her that he would meet her after dark on Saturday and she hadn't wanted to miss him.

The manhole cover quivered, lifted, and slid aside without a sound. April's heart skipped and she stood up a little straighter, smiling nervously as she saw the rat beckoning to her. She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, closed her umbrella, and hurried over. The rat looked surprised when she shrugged off her backpack and handed it to him, but he took it and moved out of her way so she could climb down. She made it into the manhole and down the ladder without getting too wet, then stood at the bottom drying her hands on her jeans while the rat pulled the cover back into place.

"I was not sure you would come," he told her once he'd climbed back down.

"Of course I was going to come," she told him, settling her backpack on her shoulders once again. "I promised."

His warm fingers closed around hers again in the dark. "I have not had much reason to trust others," he told her, "but I am glad you kept your word. Raphael – the one with the crack in his shell – is unwell."

She picked up her pace a little to walk beside him rather than behind. Curiosity over the little turtle's name and worry for him flooded through her in equal measure. "What's wrong with him?" she asked, holding the rat's hand a little tighter.

"The wound is infected," he answered. "The infection itself is not the problem; I have seen similar wounds before and I know with time he will recover, but he is refusing to eat. I do not want to leave him alone but I cannot take him with me tonight."

April's brow furrowed as she mulled over his words. His professed knowledge about injuries was both intriguing and troubling. A doctor or paramedic could have experience with infected wounds, but this human-turned-rat definitely didn't give off the vibes of a healer, and she wondered what kind of life he'd had that would give him that knowledge. Then the rest of what he'd said sank in. "Wait, you're leaving me alone with them?"

"Is that all right?" he asked. "I am sorry. I should have asked you before."

"No, it's fine!" she assured him. "I just wasn't expecting it. But I'm happy to be their turtle-sitter." She smiled as she said it, hoping her expression would come through in the tone of her voice, and she gave his hand a little squeeze.

He chuckled a little, a deep, warm sound that chased away the damp chill of the sewers. "Thank you. It is much appreciated." He tugged on her hand, guiding her away from the deepening stream of water at the center of the pipe. April noticed that the sound of dripping and running water was louder than when she'd come down two days ago, and as they passed one of the main junctions, the runoff from the streets was pouring down in a miniature waterfall, sending a cloud of misty droplets floating through the humid air.

"The rain has really made a difference down here, hasn't it?" April asked.

"Yes. I am concerned it will only be a matter of time before it affects the alcove where we have been hiding," he answered. "I have found a new place to stay but it is not safe for the turtles to go there yet. There are some items I must retrieve from a storage locker tonight, but then I am going to the new location to clear a space for them." The sound of rushing water echoed off the curved concrete walls, nearly drowning out his voice as he came to a halt at the last junction. "The water is a bit wide to jump over here. May I lift you over?"

"Okay," she answered a bit hesitantly. He took her backpack first, setting it down well away from the edge, then returned for her. One of his arms curved around her shoulders while the other caught her behind the knees. He straightened smoothly, holding her easily against his furred chest as he waded through the knee-deep water and deposited her on the other side.

"Thanks," she said, shouldering her bag again. She hoped that the reflexive blush that had risen to her cheeks had faded enough so that he couldn't see it in the dim surroundings, but the half-imagined gleam of amusement in his eyes told her that he probably could. The rat walked the last few paces and pulled aside the plywood flap, holding it open while gesturing for her to go ahead. She gave him a grateful little smile and ducked through the small opening.

The four little brothers were piled together on the blankets on the far side of the alcove. They were awake, though, and when they saw her they sat up and looked at her with bright eyes. The freckled one squealed with delight and clambered to his feet, running over to wrap his surprisingly strong arms around her leg.

"Well, hi there!" she said happily, crouching down to his level. She let her bag slide to the ground and hugged him, grinning as he nuzzled against her. The brown eyed turtle with the gap in his teeth had come over, too. His head was tilted as he patted curiously at her head. "What?" she asked. "Oh, my hood?" She pushed it back and giggled as he tugged gently at her ponytail.

The rat smiled. "That is Donatello," he told her. "And the one you are holding is Michelangelo."

"Well, it's nice to meet you both," April told them. "I don't think I introduced myself last time. I'm April." She lifted her head and smiled at the third turtle. He had started across the little room toward her but stopped halfway, turning uncertain blue eyes back to where his brother lay curled on the blanket.

The rat crossed over to him and stooped to rest a hand on top of his head. "This is Leonardo. And you already know Raphael's name."

The mention of the fourth turtle took some of the enthusiasm out of April's sails. She gave Michelangelo and Donatello one last squeeze, then stood, picked up her bag, and walked over to the other side of the small room. The alcove had been boarded up at that end as well, and the bundle of blankets was out of the way over by the plywood. Raphael was huddled quietly in the center. His limbs were pulled close to his body as if he were trying to pull into his shell, but due to his mutation, they no longer fit. He glanced up at her with dull eyes before staring back into the folds of the blanket.

"Oh, sweetie," she said softly. Her first instinct was to stroke his forehead or cuddle him close, but she knew he wouldn't like it. Instead, she unzipped her backpack and took out a small Tupperware container, shaking it invitingly to encourage his brothers to come over. "Hey, guys, I brought you something." They looked at her, wide-eyed, as she handed them each a strawberry. She kept a surreptitious eye on Raphael as his three brothers inspected the fruit before enthusiastically devouring it. She gave them each a second berry, then picked one up and held it where Raphael could see it. "Your dad tells me you haven't been eating, little guy. Do you want to give this a try?"

At first, he paid it no notice. But after a little while he sniffed and lifted his head a little. April held the strawberry a bit closer, forcing herself not to smile as his three-fingered hand closed around the bright red fruit. He inspected it for a moment or two before taking a tentative bite.

April was careful not to let him see her smile of glee. She let him be and reached into her bag again, looking up at the rat as she started pulling different containers and bags out of the black canvas bag. "I brought some fruit and vegetables. And some dried fruit," she told him. "I looked online for suggestions of what to feed baby turtles. I couldn't bring a lot since you don't have a refrigerator, but it's a start. Also..." She pulled out a bottle of chewable vitamins for children. "...I brought these because I read that turtles need calcium for their shells, but they can't have dairy."

The rat didn't answer right away. His gaze traveled back and forth between April and Raphael, gratitude and relief fighting for dominance in his eyes. "April...thank you," he finally managed. "You did not have to do this."

A soft touch on her leg made April look down. Raphael had finished his strawberry and had reached a careful hand out to nudge her for more. She gave him an encouraging smile and held out another. He took it, careful not to let his fingers touch hers, and started eating more energetically.

"I told you I wanted to help you," April answered. "You can't go shopping, but I can." She lifted a hand to stop him when she saw him getting ready to protest. "I can do it. I've got a part-time job at an antique shop. I save most of what I earn for college, but I've always got a little extra."

He was shaking his head. "April..."

"Hey." She gave him an earnest look. "You might not be human any more, but you're still a person. And you've got these four little people to take care of. You told me that you didn't have anybody. But now you have _me_."

The rat heard the unspoken _whether you like it or not_, and a gentle smile softened his severe expression. "Thank you."

April put the remaining few strawberries in front of Raphael and opened a container of apple slices. Leonardo took it with a shy little smile as she held it out to him. He sat down on the blanket with Donatello, putting a couple slices in front of Raphael before he and his brown-eyed brother dug in. Michelangelo took a piece of apple in each of his small fists and climbed into April's lap, snuggling against the soft blue material of her sweatshirt.

"I love their names," she said. "How did you pick them?"

The rat's eyes were fixed on Raphael as the sick turtle scooted over to lean against Leonardo. He took so long to answer that April wondered if he'd heard her, but he finally met her gaze. "Someone who was very important to me had a love for Renaissance art," he said quietly.

She waited expectantly for him to say more, but it took only a minute for her to realize that he wasn't going to elaborate. She took a careful breath, then asked, "Do _you_ get a name?"

He sighed, then nodded once. "Splinter."

Her brows lifted a little. His answer had only raised more questions, but although his voice was kind, there was a finality in his tone that told her she shouldn't press.

"I believe they will be able to eat dairy, though," Splinter said.

April blinked and shook her head a little, thrown by the abrupt change of subject. "Uh...what?"

"The turtles," he said, gesturing at his sons. "The substance that changed me...I had recently come in contact with a rat. I not only look like a rat, but my senses of hearing and smell – among other things – have changed. These turtles were in contact with me, and I believe that is why they became more like humans when they mutated." He gestured to the little turtle in her lap. "Have you noticed? His skin is warm to the touch. I do not believe they are cold blooded anymore. I think it is safe to assume that they are like mammals in other ways."

She laid her hand against Michelangelo's forehead. The smooth green skin was warm beneath her palm. "Huh. Well, that will make feeding them easier. You won't need to stick to things like algae and worms."

Raphael had finished the strawberries, but he'd only taken a few bits of apple before deciding he was done. Leonardo nudged the fruit closer to him, but he just whimpered a little and pushed it away, curling in on himself again.

"It is all right, Leonardo," Splinter said. "He does not have to eat it." He looked back to April. "Raphael has not taken any food or drink in two days," he said quietly. "I am deeply grateful to you."

"I'm glad I could help."

The rat shifted his weight, preparing to rise. "I should be on my way. I have much to do tonight. You are sure you are comfortable here with them? And your father – he will not be wondering where you are?"

"Yes, go! I'm fine," April assured him. "And my dad is still out of town at his conference. He'll be back tomorrow night."

"Very well." Splinter stood in one fluid motion, bending to touch each of his sons' heads before he left. "Listen to April," he told them sternly. "I will be back by morning."

April watched him go, biting back her instinctive urge to tell him to be careful. Despite the fact that a six foot tall rat was hardly inconspicuous, something in the way he carried himself told her that she didn't need to worry about him being spotted. And she found herself wondering again exactly what sort of person he had been before.

Donatello nudged a yawning Michelangelo aside to climb into her lap. April smiled as the brothers cuddled together. Leonardo lay down on the blanket next to her, resting his head on her leg. She put her arm around him, marveling at the smooth, nubbly texture of his shell beneath her fingers. She felt Raphael watching her and met his uncertain gaze. From this angle she could see the crack in his shell. It didn't look as deep as it had when she'd first seen him, but the tissue beneath the dark gold shell looked tender and swollen, and she could see the tracks on his plastron where thin streams of clear fluid had trickled down and dried.

"You can come closer if you want," she said gently. He looked at her solemnly for a long moment, as if he were trying to look right through her with his bright green eyes. Then, very slowly, he crept a little nearer, curled up on the blanket, and shut his eyes. He wasn't touching her – was barely within reach – but it was a start, and the infinitesimal progress warmed April from the inside out.

She leaned her head back against the rough wood behind her. The temperature in the alcove was cool, even with her jeans and sweatshirt, but the three turtles tucked against her were warm. She felt her own eyes growing heavy. The sound of the rain was inaudible down below, but she could hear the steady trickling and rushing as the rainwater flowed into the storm sewers. The sound was soothing, and she could feel it lulling her toward sleep. Shifting just a bit to hold the turtles a little closer, she finally allowed herself to close her eyes, and in a matter of moments she had drifted away.

But not for long.

(...to be continued...)


	3. Sister

Adventures in Turtle Sitting: Sister

Something was touching her face.

April stirred and opened her eyes. All the turtles were awake, and Leonardo had been gently but insistently patting her cheek. He was standing up with his other hand gripping the shoulder of her sweatshirt, and his three brothers were looking at him attentively.

"What is it?" she asked groggily, looking into the clear blue eyes inches away from her own. The expression of uncertainty bordering on alarm on his small face chased away the last remnants of sleep, and April let out a little gasp as she saw the narrow but steady stream of water that had begun running through the boarded-up alcove. Half of the blankets were wet, and the swift-moving storm runoff was creeping dangerously close to the small battery-operated camping lantern that illuminated the room.

Leonardo tugged on her sweatshirt, claiming her attention once again.

"Yeah, I think we should get ready to move," she told him. Donatello and Michelangelo hurried to climb out of her lap as she rose to her knees. The sound of running water was louder than ever. She started stuffing a few of the food containers back in her bag, but when a wave of water slapped against the plywood boards at her back, she knew there wasn't time. The boards behind her creaked and groaned. They were damming the flow of rainwater, but small jets were starting to spurt through the cracks and she figured the water on the other side was at least two feet deep.

Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Donatello had moved to the curved wall of the sewer tunnel, pressing against the concrete as they watched the bubbling water run across the floor. Raphael was on his hands and knees, his frightened eyes darting back and forth between April and the creaking plywood.

April didn't want to force herself into his space, not after their rocky start, but she knew she didn't have a choice. "Come on, Raphael," she said urgently, trying to keep her voice as calm as she could even as she moved toward him. "It's time to go." He gulped and slowly lifted one hand to reach for her.

The rushing sound of water became a roar. April leaped forward, snatching Raphael off the ground to shield him against her body as the boards tore away with a splintering crash. The plywood whizzed by millimeters from her head as a torrent of water broke over her. She flew across the alcove, tumbling dizzily in the cold water until her back slammed into the boarded-up entryway. Holding Raphael tightly against her chest with her right arm, she flailed out with her left until her palm pounded against concrete. She pushed off with all her strength, gasping when her head broke free of the water.

The fast-flowing water pounded against her, making it difficult to move. She turned her body to keep Raphael protected from the worst of the pressure. His arms were locked tightly around her neck, face buried in the hollow of her throat. Even in the cold water she could feel the unnatural heat the infection had kindled in his little body.

"It's okay," she told him breathlessly, "I've got you!" She gritted her teeth and threw herself to the side. Her hand scraped against the concrete floor, but she broke away from the deluge pinning her against the plywood. Drenched and shivering, she scrambled free and collapsed panting against the side of the tunnel. The three other turtles immediately clustered around her and clung to her, watching the churning water with wide, fearful eyes.

The camping lantern was submerged, flickering fitfully, but provided enough light for April to see that the alcove was rapidly filling with water. Still holding Raphael with one arm, she upended her backpack to send the contents splashing and clattering to the floor. She patted his shell to get his attention. "Can you hold on to me?" She felt him nod against her neck as he used all four limbs to anchor himself more tightly against her. As soon as she felt he was secure, she let go of him, reaching for his brothers.

She lifted Michelangelo and Leonardo into her backpack, deliberately catching the canvas fabric in the zipper as she closed it. The material trapped the zipper and held it, but left the top of the bag open for their heads and arms to be free so they could steady themselves by holding on to her shoulders. She slipped her arms through the straps, wrapped her right arm around Raphael again and extended her left to Donatello. He bounded toward her, needing no instruction. He wrapped his arms around her neck and clamped his legs around her ribcage as she braced herself against the wall and started to rise.

It wasn't easy – the churning water tugged at her legs and the combined weight of all four turtles was more than she had expected. The lantern gave one final flicker and went out, plunging the alcove into utter darkness. The abrupt loss of light forced an involuntary yelp out of her, and she felt four pairs of hands tighten their hold. "It's okay," she said. Her voice shook with fear and cold, but she took a deep breath and tried again. "We're going to be okay. I'm going to get you out of here. Raphael, I need to use my arm. Don't let go of me." He nodded again, bracing himself as she let go of him once more. Her groping hand found the wall of the tunnel and she began making her way toward the door.

The water level rose alarmingly quickly as she groped her way over to the entrance. By the time her numb, chilled fingers touched the wood, the churning water was already at the level of her hips. "Donatello, hold on tight!" She let go of him, grabbing hold of the plywood with both hands. The pressure of the water made it hard to move, and she growled with the effort as the splintery wood dug into her hands.

The makeshift door abruptly slid open, throwing her off balance so she nearly fell. The dammed-up water inside the alcove poured through the opening, tumbling and foaming as it was released. When the water had receded down past her knees, April loosened her death grip on the boards and cautiously eased through the door into the tunnel beyond. The tunnel was dimly lit by street lamps shining down through a sewer grate about a dozen yards away, and the light was a welcome relief as she waded through the chilly water.

She could feel Raphael's arms beginning to shake as she curled her arms beneath him and Donatello again to give them some support. "I've got you, guys," she said softly. "You were real troopers, hanging on for as long as you did."

There was another junction just a few yards away from the flooded alcove. The tunnel was elevated about four feet off the floor of the one in which she was walking, and in the weak light, she could see that the floor of the new tunnel was dry.

"Okay, guys, we're stopping here." She boosted Donatello up first. He crawled in on his hands and knees but turned around right away, reaching for Raphael as April deposited him on the cool concrete. She carefully slipped the bag off her stiff shoulders. Michelangelo and Leonardo scrambled out, and all four brothers made room for her as she hoisted herself up.

She had hardly sat down before Raphael launched himself against her. "Whoa!" She caught hold of him with one arm while halting her fall backwards with the other. The other three immediately piled on after him, and April found herself once again pinned in place by mutant turtles. She just hugged them and didn't say anything, catching her breath. She was thankful she was already sitting down – the adrenaline rush was fading and her body felt queerly shaky and weak. Her back was aching where she had been hurled against the plywood and she had a feeling she'd have some pretty impressive bruises come morning.

Blue-white light stabbed her eyes and thunder crashed, echoing menacingly around the sewer tunnel. April gasped and jumped, unprepared for the sounds of the storm. The turtles burrowed impossibly closer, and Michelangelo let out a high-pitched, fearful yelp.

"It's all right," April said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Don't worry, it's just the storm coming in through that sewer grate there." She tried to lift her hand to point, but Michelangelo curled his arm over her wrist and wouldn't let her move. A faint smile touched her mouth. "That's right, you guys have never seen a storm, have you? It's nothing to be scared of. Just thunder and lightning. It can't hurt you."

Donatello had lifted his head when she started speaking, and when she was done he looked curiously toward the grate. Faint flickers of lightning could periodically be seen, and although his face still looked a little anxious, he started to lean away from his brothers to get a closer look. He didn't get far. Leonardo felt him start to move and his little hand shot out, clamping down on Donatello's arm. Donatello wrinkled his nose at him in mild annoyance, but didn't shake him off.

April was surprised to feel Raphael still trembling. Even though he hadn't trusted her after the pain he'd felt when she'd removed the shard of glass, he hadn't struck her as a fearful turtle. True, he'd just had a close call, but it didn't seem like him to still be so afraid. She leaned back just a little, trying to see his face. "Raphael? Is everything all right?" He looked up when he heard his name. April then noticed that he was only holding onto her with his right arm. His left arm was tucked against his chest, and she understood that Raphael wasn't afraid – he was hurting. Even though she'd shielded him, he'd still felt the impact from the sudden flood, and the strain of holding himself against her had aggravated his healing but still-painful wound.

"Oh, honey, let me see..."

Raphael scowled and pulled away with a little growl of protest – but only for a moment. He leaned close against her again, making sure that his left side was pressed against her where she couldn't reach it. "It's okay. I won't touch it if you don't want me to," she reassured him, lightly rubbing the back of his neck. Her brow furrowed in concern as she noted the difference in skin temperature between Raphael and the others. And she realized the other reason why the little turtle was shaking.

She managed to wiggle her arm free from the pile of turtles and pulled the zipper of her sweatshirt down halfway. It took a minute or two of shifting the brothers around, but in the end April managed to get Raphael tucked inside her sweatshirt. Both the sweatshirt and the t-shirt she was wearing underneath it were utterly soaked, but the feverish turtle would be at least a little warmer. With Raphael settled and the other three leaning against her, April let out a deep sigh and reclined against the tunnel wall once again, waiting for Splinter to return.

* * *

She didn't realize that she'd dozed off again until Donatello's glad cry woke her. The little turtle jumped to his feet and launched himself into the air. Only Splinter's reflexes allowed him to catch his flying son. The rat stared at them in astonishment.

"April!" he exclaimed. "Are you all right? What has happened?"

April shook herself and slid forward to the mouth of the tunnel. She took hold of Splinter's outstretched hand as she hopped down, keeping her other arm around Raphael to keep him from slipping through the bottom of her sweatshirt. "There was, uh...a little bit of a flash flood." And she told him what had happened. Splinter listened in silence, moving only to take Raphael in his arms along with Donatello when the injured turtle reached out to him. He looked at her, wide-eyed, when she was finished. April hasn't realized it was possible for someone covered head-to-toe with thick fur to look pale, but Splinter was managing it.

"I am so sorry," he stammered. "I should not have left you – I would not have left if I had not needed to..."

"You couldn't have known this would happen," she interrupted.

"He closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths to collect himself as he held his sons a little closer. "My dear," he said at last, "I have only met you twice and already I owe you more than I can ever repay."

April shook her head. "That's not true. You don't owe me anything. It doesn't work like that between friends...or..." She trailed off, finishing her thought more tentatively. "...Or family."

He blinked a few times and cleared his throat, averting his gaze until he had mastery of himself once more. "You are right," he said softly. His brows lowered, then, as he saw her shiver slightly in the drafty tunnel. "Come. Let us take these four to their new home and then I will return you to yours."

Michelangelo eagerly hopped back into the half-open backpack, standing in the bottom with his hands braced on April's shoulders. Despite the harrowing events of the night, he still laughed and bounced excitedly as she gathered Leonardo into her arms and started following Splinter through the flooded tunnels once again.

Their journey was short, but complicated. The rat led her through a series of closed-off and long-abandoned passageways until the tunnels opened up into a wide, open space. At least two dozen candles were already lit, placed on metal or stone surfaces where they couldn't accidentally cause a fire. Their bright, wavering light chased back the darkness. April's mouth fell open in awe as she looked around. She couldn't see the entire space, but it felt enormous.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"It is an abandoned subway station," Splinter answered. "I do not know if it was ever used, but judging from the way it looks it has been empty and forgotten for at least ten years."

April had to agree. The air was clean, but it smelled old and musty, and a thick layer of dust coated the rubble and debris that was scattered haphazardly across the floor. The only clean area was a wide sunken pit in the center of the room, and April realized what Splinter had been doing all night. The floor of the pit and the bench it contained had been swept completely free of dust. One of the blankets she had given them lay folded in one of the corners, and a several large, battered canvas duffel bags were piled in another. April realized that the luggage was probably what Splinter had retrieved from the storage locker he had mentioned earlier that night.

Splinter let the fidgeting Donatello down, then set Raphael in the center of the blanket. The little turtle curled in on himself and closed his eyes. His shivering had all but stopped now that he was dry, but little lines of pain and weariness creased his forehead. Splinter ran a gentle hand over his head and pulled a fold of the blanket over him.

April knelt to let Leonardo down and carefully swung the backpack off her shoulders to lift Michelangelo out. He bounced up and ran as fast as he could around the wide sunken space. Donatello followed him, but was almost immediately distracted by the pile of canvas bags in the corner. He made a beeline for them, but corrected his course sheepishly after Splinter cleared his throat sharply and shook his head.

Splinter began lifting the heavy bags out of the pit. They hit the ground with heavy clanking sounds, sending small clouds of tan dust billowing into the air. "Out of all of them, Donatello is the most curious," Splinter told her. "It has been challenging keeping him from wandering around where he should not go."

"Really?" April asked with a laugh. "But he seems so well behaved!"

His mouth twisted in wry amusement. "Yes. Appearances can be deceiving." He unzipped the largest of the bags and began to empty it.

April's eyes widened in astonishment as swords and wooden weapons of considerable variety (and questionable legality) were removed and piled carefully on the floor. "You're telling me," she said under her breath. She eyed the other bags uncertainly. Were _all_ of them filled with weapons? Who _was_ this person?

He finished emptying the bag and brought it to her, holding a key in his other hand. "I searched the alley where the turtles and I were mutated and I found the key to my old living quarters. If I give you the address, would you be willing to retrieve some items for me? The apartment was furnished, so most of what is there does not belong to me, but there are some articles of clothing and a few other items I would be glad to have. And..." He hesitated a moment. "...there is a photograph..."

April held out her hand for the key. "I'll get it for you," she said with an understanding smile.

"It is almost dawn," he said, giving her a grateful look. "Let me move these weapons somewhere out of sight and I will take you home."

April climbed back down into the pit and sat down cross-legged next to the blanket nest in the corner. Michelangelo, Leonardo, and Donatello were chasing around in a fast-moving, complicated game of tag. It was hard to tell who was "it" - she thought it might be Leonardo, but then Michelangelo spun on his heel and tackled his pursuer to the ground. Leonardo growled playfully, tussling with his smaller brother as Donatello jumped on top of both of them.

April looked down at Raphael, surprised to see his solemn green eyes fixed on her instead of his brothers. She smiled gently at him. "How are you doing? Are you feeling okay?" He couldn't answer, of course, but his brow ridges drew together a little, giving a strange intensity to his gaze. April bit her bottom lip, debating what she should do next – and then decided just to go for it. She held out her arm just a little, beckoning to him with her fingers. "Do you want to come over?"

He hesitated – and then her heart gave a hopeful jump as he crawled out from under the blanket, got to his feet, and walked over to stand in front of her. She opened her arms to him and he climbed into her lap, sitting sideways with his shell encircled by her left arm. She held him as close as she dared, wanting him to feel loved and secure but not wanting to frighten him or hurt him. He studied her face for a moment or two, then leaned forward and took her right hand in both of his. Very slowly, he tugged it forward until her palm was resting lightly over the crack in his shell.

The burst of warmth in April's heart brought a brilliant smile to her face even as her eyes blurred with tears. "Thank you, sweetheart," she whispered, kissing the top of his head. When she looked down at him again, she saw that the last of suspicion had vanished from his face. He leaned his head trustingly against her shoulder – and for the first time since April had met him, he smiled.

A giddy shriek from Michelangelo caught their attention, and when April looked up, she burst out laughing. He and Donatello had each grabbed one of Leonardo's legs and were holding him up (rather unsteadily) as he walked across the cement floor on his hands. The weight of his shell soon made him overbalance, though, and he rolled forward in an ungainly somersault, giggling as he rocked back and forth on his carapace.

"What do you think?" April asked Raphael. "Do you think he'll be able to get up on his own?"

For a minute it looked like Leonardo was going to get stuck on his back, but he stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth, gave his body a twist, and flipped onto his stomach with a solid little _clunk_.

The candlelight shimmered off of Splinter's dark brown fur as he emerged soundlessly from the shadows. Despite the nearly perpetual stern expression on his face, his eyes were soft as he bent to scoop all three of his sons into his arms. The turtles laughed as his long whiskers tickled their cheeks. He nuzzled their faces and deposited them in a pile in the middle of the blanket.

"I expect you to try to sleep," he told them. "I will be back soon." He looked at April. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah." April kissed Raphael's forehead one last time before easing him back onto the blanket. He curled up next to Michelangelo, letting out a little sigh as Splinter pulled the blanket over them. He looked up at April one more time and gave her a sleepy smile before he closed his eyes.

Splinter took her by the hand again and helped her up out of the pit. "I am glad to see that he trusts you now," he said quietly.

She smiled, casting a fond look over her shoulder at the blanket-covered turtle pile. "Me too."

She tried to pay attention on the way back so she could find her way down on her own, but even after just a few minutes, the dark tunnels had gotten themselves hopelessly tangled in her memory, and she knew it'd be a while yet before she'd be able to navigate them without Splinter to guide her.

The first faint gray light of dawn was showing in the eastern sky when she emerged from the sewer tunnel in her alley. She hauled Splinter's canvas bag up behind her, then called down to him softly: "Wait here. I'll be right back." She bounded up the stairs to her apartment as quickly and quietly as she could, dumping the musty smelling bag on the floor as she ran to the kitchen.

She hurried back down to the alley and slid down the ladder again, sneakers squelching wetly as she landed in the bottom of the tunnel. "Here," she said. She held out the plastic carton containing the rest of the strawberries she'd bought. "In case you still have trouble getting Raphael to eat."

"Thank you." He lowered his head a little, giving her a deep, searching look. "April...I do not think you realize how remarkable you are. You have accepted me and the little ones I have adopted without a second thought when most people would fear us or try to lock us away."

"How could I have done otherwise?"

He held up a hand. "Let me finish. You risked your life to save my sons. You do not know just how rare that kind of selflessness – and strength – is." His voice became very quiet. "You may think it strange that I have become so fond of four little creatures who were just animals in a pet shop less than a week ago, but..." He trailed off into silence, words barred from escaping by the return of the look of longing and sadness that she had come to recognize in his dark eyes.

"No," she said gently. "Not strange at all. They're not 'just animals', Splinter. No more than you are. And for you to go from someone without any family to suddenly taking on four sons..." She smiled tremulously. "I think you're pretty remarkable, too." Her choice of words did not escape him. His eyes were dry, but she felt the prickling of tears behind her own eyes as he swallowed convulsively and looked away. She took a deep breath, forcing her shaky smile into a playful smirk as she folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head. "Especially because of all those weapons you've got stashed away. Am I ever going to hear the story behind those?"

Splinter looked up, startled at first, then fondly amused as he recognized her deliberate attempt to diffuse the clouds gathering over his mood. He chuckled slightly. "Perhaps." He reached out to rest his warm hand on her shoulder. The touch was light and fleeting, but when he let go, she felt as if he had hugged her. "Now, go. Your clothes are still wet through."

She obeyed, pausing halfway up the ladder to tell him: "I'll be able to go by your apartment Monday after school. Should I meet you here Monday night?"

He smiled and nodded once. "I will be waiting."

April climbed the stairs to her apartment again, slower this time. She was starting to realize how sore and tired she was. She could practically _hear_ her bed calling her, but the dank smell of the sewer clung to her clothing and her hair, and with a resigned sigh she headed to the bathroom to take a shower. She peeled off her wet clothing as she waited for the water to warm up, grimacing as she saw the first purple and blue bruises beginning to show themselves in the pale skin of her back. The hot water helped ease a bit of the soreness, but by the time she was clean, the warmth had only made her more drowsy. She pulled on her pajamas and collapsed into bed, sighing in relief as she settled against the mattress.

The last thing she saw before she drifted away was Splinter's key sitting beside Michelangelo's pebble on her nightstand.

* * *

_Thank you so much to everyone who has read along and left feedback! You're all awesome! This little story arc is done...I don't have any definite plans (or ideas) for additional chapters, but if I get inspired, there could be more. As of right now, though, the story is complete._


	4. Coming Clean

_I keep thinking I'm done with this story...but apparently I'm not. _:) _I've got a few more chapters and snippets floating around my head. So far they're all little snapshots and ficlets (including this one), but babu!turtles are refusing to leave my brain so I decided just to roll with it. _XD

* * *

Coming Clean

"The little blue engine hooked herself to the train. She pulled and she tugged. 'I think I can, I think I can,' she said..." A blunt, three-fingered hand blocked the page and April looked down at Michelangelo as he pointed at the bright blue locomotive. "Yeah, she's strong, isn't she?" she asked, returning his smile.

She was sitting on the bathroom floor with the turtles clustered around her. Michelangelo was in her lap, as usual, while Leonardo snuggled against her left side, resting his head against her shoulder. Raphael sat close by to her right, listening to her read while he played with a plastic toy truck. Donatello was leaning on Leonardo, but he was only half paying attention. His big brown eyes flicked back and forth between the pages of the book and Splinter, who was standing in the tub, tinkering with one of the nozzles on the overhead sprinkler system.

April didn't know where the rat had found the battered white bathtub, but he'd brought it home the week before and positioned it over one of the drains in the tiled floor. He had been working on the plumbing of the old subway station since he'd occupied it a few weeks ago, trying to restore running water to the abandoned facility. April had been surprised at the progress he'd made. When she'd asked him how he knew what to do, he had simply replied: _"My first home needed a lot of work." _Splinter's current project was re-routing hot water to the sprinklers so he could set up a shower. Beads of rusty water dripped down the fur of his arms and soaked into the fabric of his hakama while he worked.

April had initially tried to keep the four turtles in the main living area to be out of their father's way, but Splinter liked the company and it was almost impossible to keep Donatello away from the toolbox, so she'd camped out on the floor with them.

She started to read again. "Slowly, the little engine began to move. 'I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...' Whoa, hold on there, buddy!" April interrupted herself with a laugh, leaning forward to snag Donatello by the ankle. He had scooted forward and was reaching for the wrench that Splinter had set on the edge of the tub.

"No, it is all right," Splinter said. He bent and handed the wrench to his son. "You may hold it for me until I need it." Donatello's face lit up and he turned the heavy tool over in his hands to inspect it. Splinter cleared his throat to get Donatello's attention again. When the little turtle looked up, Splinter said a few words in Japanese. April grinned. She was becoming familiar with a few of the phrases the rat used most frequently around the four toddlers and she recognized the warning: _"Do not put it in your mouth."_

As April got to the last page of the book, Splinter gave a satisfied little grunt and climbed out of the tub. He moved over a few paces and reached for the the knob on the pipe running up the wall. The pipes let out a rusty, ear-splitting shriek, but after a moment or two of metallic clanking and sputtering, a spray of smelly, rusty water cascaded down from the sprinkler head. Michelangelo bounced up and ran eagerly forward to investigate, but Splinter scooped him up before he could touch the water and used his tail to give Donatello a gentle push back away from the tub.

"Not yet," he told them.

April rose and followed after Michelangelo, stopping next to Splinter as she admired his work. "Hey, not bad!" Splinter had tweaked the sprinkler head so the water more or less sprayed straight down. It had taken a bit of trial-and-error to get the trajectory right – much to the delight of the four turtles, who had squealed with surprised laughter whenever their father got accidentally soaked.

Now, however, he looked quite pleased with himself. "I was not sure it would work, but now that it has, I will be able to keep the four of them clean."

"Well, _cleaner_," April corrected with a smirk. Every time she'd seen Splinter, his dark red-brown fur had been shiny and spotless, but the little turtles had a knack for getting grimy.

Splinter chuckled. "Yes."

April looked down when she felt a tug on her jeans. Leonardo stood next to her, one hand curled in the denim fabric while holding _The Little Engine That Could_ in his other hand. He smiled hopefully and held the book up to her. "You want me to read it again?" He nodded, pulling on her pant leg to steer her back to their spot where Raphael was waiting. Splinter put Michelangelo down next to Donatello, and the pair ran after her. April settled in the middle of the pile of brothers again. It took a minute or two for Donatello to get situated with the wrench still clutched in his hands, but when he was settled she opened the book and started to read.

Splinter let the water run while he stepped out of the bathroom. He came back a short time later holding a pile of towels and washcloths in his arms. He deposited his load next to the tub, then came over and sat on the floor to listen while April finished the book. Leonardo climbed into his father's lap, nuzzling close against the soft fur of his chest. By the time April had reached the end of the story – including the interruptions to talk about the pictures as little green hands pointed at the bright illustrations – the water from the sprinkler head was clear and clean. Splinter stood, still holding Leonardo, and plugged the bathtub drain to let it fill.

The little turtle's blue eyes were wide and curious as he watched the water collect in the tub, and before long he was leaning forward, reaching out, trying to touch the jets of water from the sprinkler. Splinter smiled and leaned forward a little so his son could reach them. Leonardo giggled as the spray splashed off his hand into his face.

Splinter waited until the tub was halfway full, then turned off the water. He nudged Leonardo's cheek with his nose and gestured at the tub. "Would you like to get in?" Leonardo tilted his head curiously, but didn't resist as he was lowered into the tub. He patted his hands on the surface of the warm water for a moment or two, watching the ripples – then leaned forward and ducked completely beneath the water.

Splinter let out a startled exclamation and grabbed Leonardo by the arm, jerking him back above the surface. The little turtle sputtered and blinked water from his eyes, staring up at his father in confusion. There was a brief moment of silence – and then April stared, mouth slightly open, as she heard a chuckle rumbling deep within Splinter's chest.

"Well, my son...you_ are_ a turtle," the rat said, rubbing the little round head affectionately. "You may swim. At least until your brothers join you." Leonardo grinned and slipped under water again as Splinter turned around and beckoned to the other three.

Donatello and Michelangelo looked at each other uncertainly, but Raphael hopped up at once and ran over. He stood on his tiptoes and put his chin on the edge of the tub to see inside. Splinter put a hand under the bottom of his shell to boost him in, and he slid into the water with a splash. Leonardo, circling half-submerged like a little shelled crocodile, grinned mischievously and kicked off the end of the tub towards Raphael. Raphael let out a yelp that turned into a playful growl as he tussled with his brother. A wave of water sloshed over the edge of the tub before Splinter could reach in to separate his laughing children.

"Not in the bathtub," he told them. His voice was stern, but his muzzle curved in a fond smile. Michelangelo's curiosity got the better of him and he got to his feet, dragging Donatello along with him. April stood and stretched, a little stiff from sitting on the tile for so long. She took one of the towels Splinter had brought and folded it on the floor beneath her as she sat down again, grinning as she watched the four brothers splash around.

The rat had his hands full keeping his sons above water long enough to get them clean, but the patient smile on his face didn't fade. After a few minutes of horseplay, however, Leonardo settled down and cooperated.

April shook out another towel and held it open for the little turtle when Splinter lifted him out of the tub. She wrapped the soft blue fabric around him and pulled him into her lap. Leonardo smiled up at her and snuggled close, resting his head against her shoulder.

April kissed the top of Leonardo's head before lifting her gaze to Splinter's profile. "Hey, um...Splinter? I was wondering if I could ask you a favor," she ventured.

"Yes?"

She fiddled with a frayed area on the corner of the towel. "I was wondering if I could tell my dad about you." Splinter didn't answer right away, but it could have been because he was distracted by Raphael. The turtle had interrupted his face-washing by biting down on the washcloth to play tug-of-war with his father. She could tell Splinter was listening, though, so she kept speaking. "I wouldn't try to bring him down here or anything, and he would never tell anyone else about you. It's just...I've told him I've been helping out a single dad with quadruplets, but he's starting to ask more questions since I've been gone so much. I don't want to lie to him."

Splinter picked up a stiff-bristled scrub brush and rubbed it firmly across Donatallo's carapace. "Will he believe the truth?" he asked.

She answered without hesitation. "Yes. I know he will. It...it'll be a little hard to take in at first, but Dad trusts me. He knows I wouldn't make up stories to trick him. Or at least, he knows if I _did_ make up stories, I'd pick something a little more believable." She tried to smile at her own weak attempt at humor, but she wasn't very successful. She hadn't forgotten how stern and suspicious Splinter had been at first until he had decided to trust her. She didn't want to risk losing that trust.

Splinter was silent. It was still hard to read his facial expressions, but April was beginning to learn how to interpret the set of his shoulders and the motions of his ears. He was a lot more expressive than he realized. Tentative hope began to rise within her as she realized that he wasn't upset by her request, but seriously considering it.

"You may tell him," he said at last.

"Really? It's okay with you?"

"Yes." He lifted Donatello out of the tub and set him on the floor, giving him a little push towards April. She wrapped Donatello in his own towel and settled him in her lap beside Leonardo. When she looked up again, she saw that Splinter was still watching her. His solemn brown eyes held her gaze as he said, "You have been selfless in your willingness to help me and my sons. It would be wrong of me to ask you to deceive your father. And...if he requires proof of my existence or reassurance of your safety...I will meet with him."

A grateful little smile lit up her face. "I know how much you want to stay out of sight," she said softly. "That means a lot to me."

Splinter turned back to Raphael and Michelangelo, still in the bath. "Your friendship has come to mean a lot to _me_, April," he answered quietly. "Michelangelo, we do not eat the soap."

Her smile wavered a bit as his words made her eyes prickle – but his abrupt about-face in conversation brought her up short, and the threat of tears evaporated in a burst of laughter. Splinter laughed as well, wiping soap suds away from Michelangelo's chin, then lifted him and Raphael out of the tub. April was still sitting on a towel, but the remaining towel was large enough for Splinter to bundle both dripping turtles inside it.

"There," he said, drying them off with rough affection. The turtles laughed at the jostling.

April shifted her hold on Leonardo and Donatello to glance at her watch. "As much as I hate to leave, I think I should go. It's getting late." She gave the turtles one last squeeze and helped them stand, still wrapped in their towels.

"Would you like me to walk you out?" Splinter asked.

She shook her head and smiled. "No, I know my way."

The trip through the sewers got easier each time. The night air felt fresh and cold against her face as she climbed out of the manhole. She let the cover clank into place and hurried up the stairs to her apartment. The light was on in the office, and she took a little breath to settle the butterflies in her stomach as she knocked on the half-open door and stepped inside.

"Hey, Dad."

She could tell that Kirby was deeply engrossed in the file he was reading, but he looked up immediately and gave her a warm smile. "Hey, welcome back! Did the kids behave themselves tonight?"

She giggled. "If you can call trying to have a wrestling match in the bathtub and eating soap 'behaving'."

"They sound like a handful," Kirby chuckled, removing his reading glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He watched her settle in the armchair by the window, sobering a bit as he saw the tentative expression on her face. "Something on your mind, Kiddo?"

"Yeah." April fiddled with a loose thread on the cushion as she tried to figure out how to start. "I wanted to tell you more about the family, actually." She looked up to meet her dad's gaze. "I would have told you more about them sooner, but it isn't my story to tell. I went over there tonight to make sure it was okay."

Kirby's brow furrowed slightly – whether it was confusion or concern, April couldn't quite tell – but he set down his file and turned to face her, giving her his full attention. "Go on."

She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Okay. Well, I met them a couple months ago, while you were out of town at your conference. I heard a noise in the alley and went down to look for Mrs. Carter's lost cat..."


	5. Sensei

Sensei

Splinter moved the last crate into position and stepped back to survey his handiwork. A network of wooden crates, empty pipes, and a net bridge made of sturdy rope stretched across an entire wall of the main living area in an obstacle course for his increasingly energetic sons.

Donatello bounded up to stand beside him. He pointed a blunt finger at the obstacle course, looking up at Splinter with an eager smile as he tugged on his father's robe with his other hand. "Eh?"

"Wait a moment," Splinter told him. Donatello followed him with his eyes as he climbed through the course himself, performing one final check to make sure the obstacles were sturdy enough to support his own weight before he let his sons climb them.

All four turtles watched intently as Splinter climbed down. He smiled at their curious expressions and gestured at the line of crates. "You may go."

Raphael was the first one forward, crouching on his sturdy legs before clambering up the side of the first crate, Donatello close behind. Michelangelo had to jump a little higher than his brothers; even though they all had been growing, he was still the smallest. Leonardo was the last of the turtles to climb up. His face was serious, which wasn't necessarily abnormal for him, but there was an unusual tightness around his mouth that made Splinter watch him a little more closely.

Raphael scaled the first cluster of crates with surprising speed, dropped to the ground, and ducked down to crawl into the pipe. The sound of hollow clanging rang through the lair as his shell banged against the sides. Donatello ran along the top of the pipe, balancing perfectly on the curved surface. Michelangelo's squeals of laughter echoed in the pipe as Leonardo chased him through.

Splinter's ears twitched, catching the sound of familiar footsteps entering the lair, and his mouth turned up in a smile. "Hello, April." He half-turned to greet her, keeping one eye on his sons. His smile wavered a bit when he saw how pale she looked. She was hugging herself and her shoulders were hunched as if she were cold. "What is wrong?" he asked.

"I got mugged on my way here," she said shakily. "Some Purple Dragons stole my phone."

Splinter's brows lowered in a frown. "Are you all right?" Her eyes were dry, but they looked red as if she had been crying.

"Yeah, they didn't hurt me. I was lucky, though. Last month one of my friends got a black eye when they stole her purse."

That didn't make him feel any better. "Who are the Purple Dragons?"

"They're a street gang. They're small, but they've been starting to cause problems."

Raphael heard her voice and looked over. He had already scaled the second, taller collection of crates and was making his way across the net bridge. He squealed with delight from his perch and waved at her. Before either April or Splinter could react, he flipped over the edge of the net, dangled one-handed for a second or two, then dropped. April gasped, but the little turtle landed nimbly on all fours on the mattress Splinter had placed beneath the net. Raphael charged over and threw his arms around her knees, grinning up at her.

"You little monkey!" She knelt to pull him into a hug. "Splinter, did you know he could do that?"

"I did not," he answered, looking down at his son with a mixture of admiration and exasperation. He was relieved to see the anxious look begin to recede from April's face as she held Raphael. Donatello followed Raphael's lead, swinging down from the net and running over to snuggle against April's shoulder. "Did you contact the police?" Splinter asked.

"Yeah, I did, but there isn't much they can do. The gang members had their faces covered. And my phone was kind of old anyway." She tried to smile, but didn't quite succeed. "I'll just get a new one."

Michelangelo was crawling through the pipe again. When he reached the end and saw April, he jumped up and ran over as fast as he could, chattering the whole way. "Dondondondon...!"

"Hi, buddy." April shifted his brothers over so she could hug him, too.

"Dondondondon..."

"Are you saying 'Don'?" she asked.

"Dondon!" Michelangelo chirped, patting his brother's shell.

"That started yesterday," Splinter told her.

"Has he said anything else?"

"Aside from 'papa', no, but he has been making up for his limited vocabulary by repeating the one other word he _does_ know as often as possible," Splinter said with wry amusement. He sobered, however, as he turned his full attention back to the one turtle still on the obstacle course. Leonardo had started to climb across the net like his brothers, but had stopped in the center and had not moved for several minutes. Splinter's brows drew together in concern as he crossed over to stand beside the net.

Leonardo's gaze flicked over to him briefly, but almost immediately the little turtle went back to staring down through the net at the mattress five feet below him. He was hardly breathing, his whole frame as stiff and motionless as if he were carved from jade.

"Leonardo," Splinter said in a low voice, "are you all right?" The wide blue eyes filled with tears and Splinter's heart gave a painful throb at the look of terror on his son's face. "Do you need me to get you down?" he asked gently. Leonardo dipped his head in the barest of nods. Splinter reached out, slowly so he wouldn't startle his already frightened child, and slipped his hands beneath Leonardo's arms. He started to lift him away from the net, but Leonardo's fingers locked around the rope.

"I will not drop you," Splinter told him. Leonardo hesitated for a few seconds more, then let go of the net and reached out for Splinter. Splinter held him close, frowning in deep concern at his son's distress. Leonardo trembled, no longer paralyzed by fear. He buried his face against Splinter's shoulder, silent tears dampening the fabric of his robe. His little hands fisted so tightly in the garment that his grip tugged painfully on the fur underneath.

"Is he okay?" April asked worriedly, still kneeling on the ground.

"It appears that he may be fearful of heights," he answered thoughtfully. "I did not think five feet would be too high for them, but to a two-foot tall turtle, it must seem like a lot farther." He held his son a little tighter and put a comforting hand against the tear-streaked face. Leonardo sniffled and leaned his cheek into Splinter's broad palm. "I hoped that the obstacle course would help them hone their balance and agility," the rat continued, "but it looks as if Leonardo will need to begin a bit farther back than his brothers."

April let out an "oof" as Raphael jumped on her back and hugged her around the neck, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against her cheek. "Begin what?" She let his weight pull her backwards until she was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Raphael still clinging to her back and Donatello and Michelangelo in her lap.

"His training in ninjutsu."

She stared at him. "Uh...come again?"

"They will be trained as ninjas."

April hesitated for a moment before venturing, "Like you?"

Splinter smiled at the carefully-controlled curiosity in her voice. After their initial meeting, she had asked remarkably few questions about his past life, which had been both a surprise and a relief. Even after half a year, he wasn't sure how much he wanted to reveal to her. True, she had seen his collection of weapons during the first tumultuous week after his mutation, but after that he had kept the arsenal and any evidence of his daily training hidden from view. But April had become a sister to his sons and – astonishingly – a friend to him almost before he had known it was happening, and he had come to realize that he didn't want to keep her completely in the dark.

"Yes, like me," he admitted. He sat beside her on the floor, still holding Leonardo close. The little turtle had stopped crying, but his eyes were downcast and his face was sadder than Splinter had ever seen it. "Leonardo, do not be discouraged," he said, hooking a finger beneath his son's chin to lift his face. "I am proud of you for trying." Leonardo still didn't smile, but the distress in his face faded a bit as he snuggled against his father's chest.

Michelangelo watched his brother with wide, concerned eyes. "Dondondon?" he whispered.

Splinter smiled at him. "Leonardo," he corrected, speaking slowly and clearly.

"Don!" Mikey chirped gleefully.

April laughed, a real smile crossing her face for the first time since she'd entered the lair. "Well, it was a good try, honey," she said, kissing Michelangelo on the nose. Michelangelo beamed up at her before hopping up from her lap and climbing into Splinter's arms to curl against Leonardo. April let out a startled squeak as Raphael swung himself around her torso and plopped in her lap in the place Michelangelo had vacated.

Splinter sat quietly for a moment, thinking, before he looked down at the young woman and asked, "April, would you like me to train you as well?"

She stared up at him, her blue eyes wide enough to rival Michelangelo's. "Train _me?_"

"Yes. Train you in ninjutsu. You will be able to help with the little ones." He hesitated a moment, debating whether or not he should continue. "And you will be able to defend yourself if the need arises."

Her face clouded. "I don't think I'd be able to fight the Purple Dragons."

"That is not why I would train you. Ninjutsu – in my clan, at least – is not only about fighting skill, but about self-discipline and honor. It is about discovering the connection between your body and your spirit. And," he finished with a hint of a smile, "if the Purple Dragons _did_ choose to bother you, you would give them reason to think twice before they did so again."

April was silent as she thought, barely noticing as Donatello gently tugged her ponytail forward to hang in front of her shoulder so he could play with the smooth red strands.

"I do not offer my guidance as sensei without serious consideration," he went on. "You have a rare sensitivity that many people do not have. I myself have worked my entire life to develop a similar skill."

"What do you mean?"

"The night we met, you told me that you were usually able to tell when someone was telling the truth. You called it a sixth sense. You said that is why you trusted me. Is that correct?"

"Well...yes."

"You knew that I was not merely an animal. And you knew how to relate to my sons. That type of intuition is a gift that most people do not have. Many of my most successful students did not possess it." He reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder. "You have the freedom to say no, but believe me when I tell you that I would not offer to teach you if I did not know you could succeed."

April took a long, slow breath, then looked up at him and nodded. "I'll do it."

He smiled at her, squeezing her shoulder warmly before he let her go. "Good. We will begin this weekend."

Donatello chose that moment to reach up and pat April's cheek, commanding her attention. She looked down at him expectantly. "Yes, what is it?"

The little turtle looked at her with his wide brown eyes for a moment before he grinned brightly and said, "Ay-pah!"

Splinter, April, and the three other turtles turned to stare at Donatello. He gave them all a gap-toothed smile and said again: "Ay-pah." He patted her cheek again, looking immensely pleased with himself.

April's face lit up with a joyful smile. "Did you hear that? He said my name! Oh, sweetie, that makes this whole day wonderful again!" She kissed his forehead and rested her cheek against the top of his head, cuddling him close. Raphael let out a squawk of protest as he was squeezed along with his brother in the hug, but he laughed when April gave him a noisy smooch on the nose.

Splinter smiled quietly, glad to see the last of the tension slip away from April's shoulders. Leonardo, too, had relaxed, snuggled together with Michelangelo. Splinter gazed over at the obstacle course, eyes slightly narrowed as he evaluated the net bridge again. After a moment of thought, he decided he would leave it...but he would also set up another lower bridge beneath it. He looked down at Leonardo again and gave the smooth shell a reassuring pat. He would never force his son to do anything, but he did hope the little turtle would be able to conquer this newly discovered fear.

His smile grew as he watched April teach Raphael and Donatello the hand motions to "The Itsy-Bitsy Spider". All of his previous students had been younger than April and older than the turtles when he had taken them in. Training these five new pupils would be a different sort of challenge than he had faced in the past, but he realized – with a warm, surprising rush of affection – that he was looking forward to it.

* * *

_Just a brief little day-in-the-life sort of thing. _:)_ I borrowed a couple elements from the show (April getting mugged by the Purple Dragons and Splinter noticing her intuition/sensitivity/sixth sense/whatever you want to call it) to help Splinter come to the decision to train her. Thanks for reading! _


	6. Trust

_This chapter started as a little fleeting idea and turned into a 6000 word monster. I'm not sure how it happened. _XD

* * *

Trust

The ringing from her cell phone jerked April's attention away from her book. When she saw the single initial "S" on the caller ID, she hurried to snatch up the phone and answer before it went to voice mail. "Hello?"

"April." Splinter's deep voice came over the line.

April had bought him a pre-paid cell phone in case he needed to reach her, but he almost never called. At first, she was curious as to why he was calling her now – but then she realized that it was 2:00 on a Saturday afternoon. For her nocturnal friend, that meant it was 2:00 in the morning. And phone calls out of the blue at 2:00 in the morning were never a good sign.

Her fingers tightened on her phone as she asked, "Is everything all right?"

Splinter sighed before saying heavily, "Michelangelo is getting worse."

The feeling of worry that had been niggling at her ever since the little turtle had gotten sick the week before gave a sudden sharp twist in her stomach. "What's going on?"

"His fever will not come down and he is beginning to have difficulty breathing."

"Hang on, I'm on my way." She shut off her phone and tossed her book aside, jumping up from the couch. "Dad, I've got to go."

Kirby glanced up from his laptop, brow furrowing in concern. "The little guy is still sick?"

"Yeah." She bit her lip as she pulled on her coat. "It sounds bad. I don't know what we can do."

Her father frowned thoughtfully, but then his eyes widened and he hopped up from his seat, settling his computer hastily on his chair before following her to the door. "April, hang on a second. I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner. What if we called your aunt?"

She paused halfway out the door to give him a quizzical look. "What?"

"We don't really know anything about the way the turtles' metabolism works, but from what you've told me they have a lot of mammalian characteristics. They could probably take some of the same drugs we can. Robyn might be able to get it for us."

April's eyes lit with a flicker of hope. "I'll talk to Splinter." She hurried out the door and was halfway down the first flight of stairs before she heard her dad lock the door behind her. The winter air bit at her nose and cheeks as she stepped into the alley and hauled the manhole cover out of the way to slide down the ladder.

Her breath floated in clouds in front of her face as she jogged through the tunnels. Her boots slipped more than once on the ice that had formed on the floor, but three years of ninjutsu training with Splinter had given her a keen sense of balance and it didn't slow her down.

Leonardo was waiting for her at the lair entrance. He smiled and snuggled against her puffy down coat when she knelt to hug him, but his blue eyes were wide and anxious. "Papa's in our room," he said, taking her by the hand. He led her across the lair to the room where he and his brothers slept. April shrugged out of her coat as best as she could without letting go of Leonardo's hand. The lair was warm compared to the tunnels, but Splinter could only do so much to heat the living space and she couldn't suppress a shiver.

The four little turtles slept bundled together in a deep, soft nest of blankets and pillows in a corner of their room. Michelangelo was curled in a shivering ball in the center of the blankets with Raphael huddled beside him. Raphael was scowling, but April recognized the dark look as his scared face, not an angry one. Donatello hovered close at Splinter's side, both hands clutching the sleeve of his father's robe.

She sank down next to Splinter, still holding Leonardo's hand. "Hey there, buddy," she said softly, stroking Michelangelo's forehead with her free hand. His eyes cracked open a few millimeters when he felt the touch, but a coughing spell shook him and he wilted miserably back against the blankets.

April looked up at Splinter's face in alarm. "When did he get this bad?"

"A few hours ago," he answered, white brows furrowed in deep concern. "I did not foresee him becoming this ill so quickly." Donatello tugged at Splinter's sleeve. The rat wrapped a comforting arm around him, but his gaze did not leave Michelangelo's face. Michelangelo's breaths were rapid and fast, and the air rattled wetly beneath his shell every time he inhaled.

"I put him in a cool bath earlier to see if I could lower his fever," Splinter went on, "but it was too cold for him. I could not force him to stay in the water." The helplessness in his voice caused choking fear to rise up in April's chest. She had to swallow hard and take a deep breath before she could speak.

"Splinter – my dad had an idea. My aunt is an ER doctor at Mount Sinai Medical Center. Dad thought she might be able to get medicine for him. Is it okay if I call her? I won't tell her anything about you."

It was a testament to how worried Splinter was that he didn't hesitate before he nodded. "Call her."

April scrolled through her contacts until she found her aunt's number, heart pounding as she counted the rings. _Please answer, please answer..._

"Hey, it's my favorite niece!" Robyn O'Neil answered cheerfully. "April, how've you been?"

"I'm good, Aunt Robyn." she said, relief and affection coaxing a smile onto her face. "Is now a good time to talk?"

"Sure is. You caught me on my break. What's up?"

She took a breath and plunged ahead. "Listen, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could ask you a favor."

"Sure, kiddo." She sobered, hearing the tension in April's voice. "Everything all right?"

"Actually...not really. There's a three-year-old boy that I babysit, and he's pretty sick. I was wondering if...if maybe you could get some medicine for him."

"But...shouldn't you take him to the doctor?"

"I wish I could," she answered. "Believe me, if I could take him anywhere, I would, but it's impossible."

"How'd he get sick?"

"He fell in some runoff in a storm sewer. It wasn't raw sewage, but the water was pretty dirty. We think he inhaled some of the water and now he's got pneumonia. He wasn't too sick at first, but it's been four days and now in the last few hours he's really taken a turn for the worse."

"Listen, if it's a question of money or something, I'll be glad to look at him after my shift. This sounds serious. I really think he needs a doctor. I could even recommend a free clinic if you want."

"I _know _he needs a doctor, but he can't go. There just isn't any way and I can't explain it. I'm so sorry – I wouldn't put you in this position if I had any other choice. _Please_, Aunt Robyn." She fell silent then, not wanting the tremor in her voice to frighten Michelangelo's brothers. All three of them were watching her anxiously. Leonardo was still holding her hand, his grip so tight that her fingers were starting to go numb. She did her best to smile down at him, gently pulling her hand free so she could wrap her arm around him. He snuggled against her side, watching Michelangelo as he started coughing again. Splinter gently shifted Raphael out of the way so he could lift his sick son upright. Michelangelo struggled weakly, dazed and frightened as he wheezed, fighting to breathe.

"Is that him I hear?" Robyn asked quietly.

"Yes, that's him."

Robyn sighed heavily. "Okay, I'll see what I can do."

"Oh, Aunt Robyn, thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. Honestly, I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't have to."

"I know you wouldn't, kiddo," came the gentle reply. "I'll see you soon."

April said a quick goodbye, giving Splinter a tentative smile as she hung up the phone. "She said she'll bring it by our apartment after her shift."

"Thank you," he replied earnestly. Michelangelo was still shivering despite the blankets bundled around him. Splinter laid a hand on his son's head for a moment before he forced out the words, "Take him with you."

April stared at him in shock. She had been coming down to the lair for three years, but aside from Splinter's infrequent trips to the surface for food and supplies, the strange little family she had adopted had never left their home. Even Kirby had never met them, despite the fact that she'd told him about them almost from the beginning. "Wait – what?"

He turned his desperate gaze on her face and said again, "Please. Take him with you. It is too cold and damp down here for him, and when your aunt brings the medication for him he should not have to wait. I do not wish to burden you and your father, but..."

"It's not a burden," she told him. "We'll take care of him. I promise."

"No," Raphael protested, burrowing closer to Michelangelo. "Don't want him to go."

"Raphael. Your brother is very ill. He needs to go with April."

"Can I go with him, Papa?"

Splinter rested his hand on Raphael's small shoulder. "Not today."

Raphael looked down at Michelangelo before turning his wide green eyes on April. "When's he coming back?"

"As soon as he's better," she told him. She rested her hand on the side of Michelangelo's face and rubbed her thumb across his cheek. "Michelangelo, sweetie?" It hurt to see the dull, exhausted look on his face as he opened his eyes. "We're going to my house, okay?" He nodded once, not asking any questions – which made her even more worried – and she gathered him up in her arms. Splinter helped her pull on her coat. She kept one arm inside to hold Michelangelo against her as Splinter zipped the warm jacket around both her and the little turtle.

He told his other three sons to stay in their room and walked April to the door. He rested a heavy hand on her shoulder as he gazed down at Michelangelo. "If it were not broad daylight, and if I did not have the others, I would go with him." He took a shaky breath, ears pressed back against his head. "You will call me if..."

"I'll call you when he's feeling better," she interrupted, holding Michelangelo a little tighter. Splinter squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, then dipped his head to nuzzle Michelangelo's cheek before letting her go.

April hurried through the sewers, making it back to he manhole in record time. Michelangelo ducked his head as they climbed out of the dim sewer into the watery afternoon sunlight. He caught his breath when the cold air stung his throat, and broke into another fit of pained coughing. April rushed him inside, into the relative warmth of the stairwell, but the coughing continued. She pounded up the stairs, fumbling in her pocket for her keys.

Before she managed to dig them out, her dad pulled the door open from the inside, staring in amazement at the little turtle bundled inside her coat. "I could hear him all the way up the stairwell," he said worriedly, helping her untangle herself from her jacket.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay," April said anxiously, thumping Michelangelo's shell. Her palm was stinging by the time the coughing fit passed, but she let out a sigh of relief when she heard him manage to take a breath without struggling. He buried his face against her shoulder and let out a whimper, clinging weakly to her neck.

Despite his concern for the turtle, Kirby's eyes were full of wonder as he saw the little one for the first time. "So this is Michelangelo," he said softly.

"Yeah. Although his brothers have started calling him 'Mikey'. Haven't they, buddy? They've been calling you Mikey?" She bounced him in her arms a little to get his attention.

"Uh-huh," he said hoarsely.

"How long has he been like this?" Kirby asked.

"He's been slowly getting sicker since last week, but it just got bad like this a few hours ago," she answered, swaying back and forth in an attempt to soothe the little turtle.

"He's really having a hard time." The lines in Kirby's forehead deepened as he saw Michelangelo's weary panting. "You know, honey, when you were a baby, you got pretty sick once. I took you into the bathroom and let it fill up with steam from the shower. It helped you cough up some of the gunk that was blocking your airways. You might try it with him."

"What do you think, Mikey? Should we try it?" He didn't answer – he just snuggled closer against her shoulder and shivered. April exchanged a worried look with her father and headed off to shut herself and Michelangelo in the bathroom. She turned the shower on and cranked up the hot water, then sat down on the closed toilet lid.

It didn't take long for the small room to fill with steam. April's bangs frizzed and curled in the humid air. Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her back, but she ignored her own discomfort. Mikey's nearly uncontrollable shivering from the fever dwindled in the warm room, but his small body still shook convulsively every few minutes as he choked and coughed. April eventually figured out that firmly patting his plastron over his chest helped him more than thumping on his carapace. She used a towel to wipe his mouth as the steam helped him clear his lungs.

After a while, Mikey's coughs became less rattly and wet. He didn't exactly sound better – each spell of hoarse coughing rattled him and left him curled bonelessly against her – but April thought that maybe he wasn't taking as much effort to breathe. She turned off the shower and stood, staggering a little on numb legs until the pins and needles went away.

Mikey shuddered and pressed impossibly closer as they left the foggy heat of the bathroom for the relative cool of the apartment. April settled in the corner of the couch, sitting half-reclined with his head on her shoulder.

Kirby emerged from the kitchen holding a thermometer in one hand and a glass full of amber-colored liquid in the other. April recognized it as watered-down apple juice that her dad had given her to drink when she was sick as a little girl. She took the glass and shifted Mikey around, propping him up a little.

"Hey, little buddy, you think you can drink this for me?" He opened his eyes reluctantly, but nodded. April held the glass steady for him as he drank. He had to pause several times to breathe and he didn't finish all of it, but she felt a little better when he'd managed half the glass. She handed the cup back to her dad and helped Michelangelo get situated against her shoulder again, pulling the fleece blanket off the back of the couch to drape the soft fabric over them both. She held him as tightly as she dared, lightly rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

Before long, she was sweating again. Mikey still shivered, but he felt like a little furnace huddled against her. She took the thermometer when her dad held it out to her and held it up to Michelangelo's face. "Mikey, I need you to hold this in your mouth, but don't bite it, okay?"

The thermometer beeped shrilly after a brief pause, and her stomach lurched as she looked down at the digital display. "104.6."

The worried lines in Kirby's face deepened. "Well, we don't know his normal temperature, but I know that's too high no matter what species he is. We've got to see if we can bring it down."

"Splinter tried putting him in cool water, but he's too sick. He couldn't stand it."

"We could try giving him Tylenol."

April hugged Mikey a little closer. "But we don't know if he can take it. It might hurt him."

"Honey..." Kirby sighed. "...if we don't try something soon, it won't matter." He stroked her hair as tears welled up in her eyes. "Listen, let me call Splinter first, okay? I won't give him anything unless his dad says it's all right."

April nodded. "My phone's in my coat pocket," she managed to say, throat tight. "Splinter's number is the most recent incoming call."

Kirby crossed the room and pressed a few buttons until he found the number. There was a short pause while he waited for an answer. "Uh, hi, Splinter, this is Kirby, April's dad. No, no, nothing's changed, but there's something you should know..." April cuddled Mikey close, dropping kisses on his forehead, only half-listening to the conversation. "Actually, I think there's a good chance it could work. He's got your DNA, right? Human DNA?...Well, yes, there's some risk, but..."

"You've got to stay with me, okay, buddy?" April whispered. "I told Raphael I'd be bringing you back home."

Kirby was pacing back and forth across the living room. "...I know, I'm out of my depth, too. He's a turtle, he shouldn't even be _able_ to spike a fever, but..."

Mikey stirred a little and lifted his head. "Raphie?"

She looked down at him in mild surprise, unaware than he had been paying attention to her. "Yeah, Raphie," she said with a smile. "He's waiting back at home for you. So you're going to get better, okay?"

He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back against her shoulder. "'Kay."

"Okay," Kirby said with a sigh, hanging up the phone. "Splinter said it was all right." He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "If I thought it would hurt him, I wouldn't try it. But I do think there's a good chance it will help."

"I know," she answered in a small voice. "I just don't want anything to happen to him."

"He'll be okay." Kirby patted her shoulder reassuringly and headed off to the kitchen.

Mikey had opened his eyes again, roused by the close proximity of a man he didn't know. He lifted his head and watched Kirby disappear into the kitchen door, a look of vague curiosity on his face as he took notice of him for the first time. "April, who...?" His question broke off as he started to cough again.

"It's okay, honey, it's okay, you'll be all right." She steadied him with her right hand against his carapace, patting his plastron firmly with her left. Her movements were hampered as he grabbed on to her hand with both of his – not in an attempt to stop her, but out of panic in his losing battle for air.

Distracted by Michelangelo's distress, April didn't realize someone had knocked on the door until she heard the rattle of a key in the lock. She looked up in alarm but it was too late to get out of sight. Her Aunt Robyn stepped into the room just as Mikey's coughing fit ended. Her face paled a bit as she watched the little turtle curl into April's arms with a whimper, panting for breath.

Robyn looked at Michelangelo in a mixture of wonder and amusement. "Well, that answers a few questions," she said after a moment.

Kirby halted in the door of the living room with another half-full cup of juice, blinking at his sister in surprise. "I didn't hear you knock," he said.

"Good thing you gave me a spare key," Robyn said with a lopsided smile. She tossed a plastic pill bottle to Kirby. "Give him half a tablet every eight hours until it's gone."

Kirby fumbled for a moment, eyes darting back and forth between his sister and Michelangelo, but when he saw that Robyn wasn't alarmed or angry, he relaxed. "I guess you can see why he couldn't go the hospital," he said slowly.

"This isn't the sort of thing where you'll need to kill me now that I know too much, is it?"

"Probably not," Kirby said with a smirk. The humor in his eyes dissolved into sincere gratitude. "Thank you for doing this, Rob." He took the medication and disappeared into the kitchen again.

Robyn crossed the room, tilting his head to the side as she peered down at Michelangelo. "What is he?"

"He's a turtle," April answered.

"A turtle that you...babysit."

She nodded once. "Yep."

Robyn smirked, but the expression in her eyes was kind rather than mocking. "So who are his parents?"

"Um..."

She was spared a reply by Kirby's return. He had brought the glass of juice with him, swirling it gently as he walked. "I crushed the Tylenol and antibiotic and put them in the cup," he said.

April took the glass and gave Michelangelo a gentle shake. "Mikey? I need you to drink one more thing for me. Can you do that?"

He lifted his head wearily. As he swallowed the first sip of the cloudy liquid, his freckled face wrinkled in distaste and he pulled back a little. "Tastes funny."

"There's medicine in it," she told him, ignoring Robyn's surprised flinch when Michelangelo spoke. "I know it doesn't taste good, but it'll make you feel better. I promise." She fervently hoped she was telling the truth, but if there was any doubt in her voice, Mikey didn't hear it. He hesitated just a moment longer, then complied, draining the glass completely even as he coughed a bit at the bitter aftertaste.

"Good boy," April praised him. He burrowed against her again and closed his eyes, shallow breaths hot and dry against her skin.

Robyn shrugged out of her coat and sat there in her scrubs, watching in silent concern. "I'm glad you called me," she said in a low voice.

"I'm glad you agreed to help," April answered.

Robyn didn't take her eyes off of Michelangelo's face. "Where did he come from?"

April knew Splinter wanted to remain unknown and out of sight, but she figured she owed her aunt some kind of explanation. So she started talking. She left out names and specifics, and she didn't say that the turtles lived in the sewer, but she painted a vague picture for her aunt that would at least fill in some of the gaps. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you on the phone," she said as she finished. "It wasn't my secret to tell."

"You don't need to worry. I'll keep their secret." The nearly perpetual cheerful expression on Robyn's face faded a little as he looked down at Michelangelo again. "I hope he pulls through."

"He's going to," she replied, voice determinedly steady.

"With you playing nurse, I don't doubt it." She stood and pulled her coat on again. "Listen, I need to run. But let me know if he needs anything else, okay? I'll do my best to get it for you. And keep doing what you're doing. He's really sick, but you've handled it well."

"Thanks," she said with a smile.

Robyn waved to her brother, seated in his chair focused on his laptop once again. "Talk to you later, Kirb." She let herself out while April reached for the remote and turned on the TV. Michelangelo flinched at first, startled by the unfamiliar light and sound, but after a minute or two he relaxed again.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's called a television," she explained. "It's tells stories like a book, except it makes sound and the pictures move. When I was little, I used to watch cartoons on the couch when I was sick. This show was one of my favorites. It's about super heroes. See that guy there? The one with the white cape?" She pointed. "He's the leader. His name is Silver Sentry." Mikey blinked at the TV for a minute or two, but he was too sick for his natural curiosity to keep him interested. April turned the volume down low and cuddled him close.

Michelangelo grew heavy against her chest as time passed. In spite of the frequent coughing spells, he finally drifted off in a restless doze. The quiet clicking of Kirby typing on his laptop was the only sound that could be heard over Mikey's labored breathing.

The winter sun sank quickly in the gray sky. Aside from one or two breaks to stretch and eat a few bites of dinner, April stayed on the couch, holding Michelangelo. She had him drink more juice with the antibiotic mixed in sometime around midnight. Kirby went to bed a short time later, turning off off all the lights except for a dim lamp on the far side of the room. The amber light mingled with the blue-white glow from the TV.

Left alone with only her thoughts, April felt tears pressing against the backs of her eyes. She didn't think Mikey seemed better at all. He still shivered, even though he burned like a little coal in her arms. She closed her eyes to keep the tears from falling and discovered that she was so tired she couldn't open them again. As she drifted off to sleep, one word thrummed through her mind with every beat of her heart: _please..._

* * *

She woke to the sensation of weight and damp.

April lifted her head from where it had fallen against the back of the couch, groaning a little at the kink in her neck. It was still dark outside, and her bleary eyes could just barely make out the glowing numbers on the DVD player: 5:03 AM. The early morning news was just beginning on the muted television, and Mikey...

Mikey was sound asleep with his head pillowed on her shoulder. His breathing was still rapid and a little shallow, but he was breathing more easily than he had in days. April then realized that her shirt was soaked with sweat – but it wasn't hers. She pressed her hand against Michelangelo's forehead, feeling a surge of hope as she discovered that his fever had broken, his smooth green skin damp and cool to the touch beneath her fingers.

Tears stung her eyes again, but they were tears of relief rather than distress. She used a fold of the blanket to gently wipe the sweat away from Michelangelo's face. She knew she should call Splinter, but her phone was out of reach on the coffee table and she didn't want to wake Mikey by moving him just yet. So she just held him while the unnaturally perky newscasters droned on in the background and the first hint of dawn crept into the sky.

Her father rose early most days, so it wasn't long before she heard him moving around. His shoulders slumped in relief as he saw her smile, and he crossed the room to peer fondly down at the sleeping turtle.

"Looks like he's going to be okay," he whispered.

"Thanks to you and Aunt Robyn," April said in the same tone.

"Listen, I'm going to get coffee started, and then why don't you let me sit with him while you get cleaned up?"

April smiled at the thought of a hot shower. "Sounds good."

Kirby disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes, then returned holding a clean blanket. April carefully wrapped Michelangelo in the new blanket before shifting him into her father's arms. Mikey murmured and coughed a little in his sleep, but he had been so drained by illness that he nestled down against Kirby's chest without waking.

April tarried just a moment to make a hushed phone call to Splinter, then hurried off to the shower. It was a relief to peel off her clammy t-shirt and wrinkled jeans and step under the hot spray. She was tempted to take a long shower, but she didn't want to leave Michelangelo for too long. He hadn't officially met her dad and she didn't want him to be afraid if he woke up with a stranger.

She returned to the living room fifteen minutes later to see Michelangelo blinking drowsily up at her dad, resting his head on Kirby's shoulder as he tugged curiously at his beard with one hand.

Kirby gave her a teasing smile. "Look at that, Michelangelo," he said. "She wakes up, takes a shower, and _then_ changes into pajamas."

April looked down at her long-sleeved t-shirt and blue flannel pants. "Hey, I slept in my clothes. I think I get a free pass at spending the day in my pajamas. Besides, it's not even 7:00 yet. I don't have to get dressed if I don't want to." She smiled down at Michelangelo. "How do you feel, buddy?"

His arms shook a little as he lifted them, a silent request to be picked up. April immediately complied. Mikey tucked his head underneath her chin. "Hurts," he rasped.

Her brow furrowed a little. "What hurts, honey?"

He patted his chest. "Under my shell."

She looked to Kirby in concern, but he just gave the little turtle a sympathetic smile. "It's probably because he's been coughing so much. We'll give him a little more Tylenol after he's had some food. That should help."

"Did you hear that, buddy? It'll get better." She bounced him a little in her arms. "Are you hungry? You think you can eat a little something?" When he nodded, she smiled in relief.

After that morning, Michelangelo improved steadily. April still took him in to the bathroom to breathe in the steam several times a day, but although his cough was persistent, he brought up less phlegm now that he was taking the antibiotic. After three days, he was well enough to go home. April told Splinter as much on her daily phone call.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"My dad thinks so." She smiled, watching Kirby and Michelangelo playing with a child's plastic tool bench. She wasn't sure if her dad had pulled it out of storage somewhere or if he'd bought it on his way home from work. So far, Mikey had been too tired to do much more than watch while Kirby showed him how to use the tools, but the bright interest in his eyes was encouraging to see.

Splinter let out a long-held breath. "April, I cannot thank you and your father enough. Without the help from your aunt, I do not believe he would have survived."

"Hey, what else could I do? He's my little brother."

"That he is."

The warmth in Splinter's voice made her eyes prickle, and it was a moment before she could speak. "When do you want me to bring him down? Right after dark?"

"Yes, that will do." Splinter paused briefly, then said, "Bring your father with you."

"R-really? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She smiled, watching Mikey finally pick up the plastic hammer and pound at the colorful pegs in the tool bench. "All right. We'll see you later."

* * *

As soon as the sun set, April bundled Michelangelo in a thick blanket and tucked him inside her coat. She decided to take the shortest route back to the lair, both for simplicity's sake and because she didn't want to keep Mikey out in the cold. Kirby followed close behind her, looking around without commenting. Michelangelo wiggled his arms out from the folds of the blanket to lock them around her neck, and she was glad to feel the strength in his grip.

When they rounded the last curve of the tunnel, Mikey recognized where they were and started to bounce a little in her arms. April pushed open the hidden door to the lair and had to make a sudden grab to catch Mikey as let go of her and started squirming inside her coat. His voice was still ragged, but his happy cry of "Papa!" echoed in the wide living area.

April pulled down the zipper on her coat before Michelangelo burst through it. The little turtle reached up with both hands as Splinter drew near. He threw his arms around his father's neck and nuzzled his face against the whiskered cheek. Splinter closed his eyes and he held his son close. His stern expression didn't change much, but April had known him long enough to see the depth of his relief and joy.

Her dad stood quietly behind her. She had told him what to expect, but she knew firsthand how startling Splinter could be on first acquaintance and she wasn't sure how Kirby would react. But she shouldn't have worried. He watched with friendly curiosity, peering past Splinter to the three sets of bright eyes peering over the edge of the pit in the center of the room.

Splinter adjusted the blanket around Michelangelo's shoulders, carefully set the little turtle on the floor at his feet, then lifted his head to fix his gaze on Kirby's face. "Kirby O'Neil. Thank you," he said, giving a deep, solemn bow. Kirby bowed in return. It was a bit stiff, but Splinter smiled warmly before reaching out to shake Kirby's hand.

Raphael, reassured now that his father had welcomed the stranger, hauled himself up out of the pit and ran across the room to Michelangelo's side.

"Raphie!" Mikey dropped the blanket and pounced on his bigger brother, hugging him tightly. "Raphie, I missed you! And I saw April's house, and that's her papa, and – " He had to stop to cough as the words caught in his raw throat. Splinter draped the blanket around his shoulders and lifted him into his arms again.

"You are going to stay in bed for the next few days," Splinter said.

"Not bed," Michelangelo said, catching his breath. "Please, Papa?"

"Very well. You may stay out here with us as long as you sit quietly."

Mikey nodded eagerly. "I'll be quiet."

April and Kirby followed Splinter to the sunken bench. Raphael climbed into Splinter's lap and burrowed into the blanket with Michelangelo.

April sat beside him and smiled down at Leonardo when he climbed into her lap. "How're you doing, little buddy?"

"I'm glad Mikey's back," he said. "Papa said you'd take care of him."

She gave him an affectionate squeeze and kissed his forehead. "It wasn't just me. My dad helped, too."

"You have met Michelangelo," Splinter was saying to Kirby. "This is Raphael, Leonardo, and Donatello."

"Hi, boys," Kirby said with a smile.

"Hello," said Leonardo politely. Donatello waved shyly. Raphael just stared back for a moment until Michelangelo poked him. He wrinkled his nose at his brother, but lifted his hand in a tentative wave and said, "'Lo."

Donatello scooted closer to Splinter and tugged on his sleeve before asking a quiet question in Japanese. Splinter blinked in surprise before a deep, warm chuckle tumbled out of his chest.

"What did he say?" Kirby asked.

"He wanted to know why your hair is on your face and not your head," Leonardo translated.

"Your head is shiny!" Michelangelo chirped.

"Mikey, we don't have fur but Papa does," Leonardo explained. "April's hair is on her head and her papa's is on his face. Papas look different."

April broke into helpless giggles and cuddled Leonardo close while her father laughed outright. "Well, it's a reasonable theory," Kirby said with a grin. He then moved from the bench to the floor and pulled the plastic tool bench out of the duffel bag he'd brought with him. Donatello's eyes lit with interest and he hopped to the floor as well, kneeling across the tool bench from Kirby as he reached for the hammer.

April glanced over at Splinter in time to catch his fleeting, but sincere, smile in return. Joy and relief over Michelangelo's recovery tangled in his eyes with amusement over Leonardo's explanation. And when he looked back at Kirby, April's heart warmed when she saw quiet trust in the brown depths. Although Splinter had had to decide to place his confidence in her fairly quickly, he had refused to reveal himself to anyone else. Despite being the rat's friend for three years, she still knew very little about his past life as a human. She had caught glimpses – the book of Renaissance artwork with singed pages and the photograph of the young couple with their child – but she had not asked any questions and he had not spoken of it since.

April knew that part of the reason why he had trusted her so quickly was that she _hadn't_ asked questions. It had proven to him that she believed in who he was _today_, that his past didn't matter. She was fairly certain that if she were to ask him about his life as a human now, he would tell her...but she respected his desire for privacy and she had decided long ago that she would never bring it up. Bottom line: regardless of how quickly he had let her in, Splinter did not trust easily. All the same, he had asked to meet Kirby and had given permission for her to show her father the lair.

He had been silent for a long moment on the other end of the phone when she confessed that Robyn had accidentally seen Michelangelo – but then he had sighed quietly and said, _"Thank you for telling me, April. But you do not need to apologize. If you believe that your aunt is trustworthy, that is enough for me." _

April smiled quietly to herself as she watched Michelangelo snuggle against his father's chest, bright eyes drifting closed as he lost his fight to stay awake. It had taken a long time, but ever so slowly, the deep wounds that Splinter's past life had given him were beginning to heal.

* * *

_A couple quick notes about this chapter: _

_First, a PSA because I can't bring myself to post this chapter without it: Many human medications are toxic to animals. Animals should NEVER be given ANY human medication unless it's been prescribed by a veterinarian. Mikey got human medication here because he is a mutant turtle with human DNA and because this is fiction. _:D

_Secondly: Yep, I borrowed Robyn's name from 2k3 April's sister. _:)_ Fun fact – the first draft of this story featured an AU version of Uncle Augie instead. But we don't know anything about 2012 April's aunt, and she's done so much for April in the series so far (even though we've never seen her) so I decided to give her a little face time. Thanks so much for reading!_


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